Mesmerize
by Cadaverous Apples
Summary: Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets, and Ginny Weasley has been living a large one. And when two Slytherins save her from it, she might be in far deeper than she could have guessed....DGB. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter One

I didn't know exactly when I had realized that I was trapped. Trapped into an imprisonment under the guise of a relationship. I never even realized how deep I was in before it was too late. Too late to do anything but hope that I would at least live through it, hope that he would find another to capture and cage like a helpless bird.

No, that was wrong. I would much rather that it be I than someone else. Why should I try and force his wrath upon anyone else? Especially when it was only me that was being slowly eaten from the inside out, parts of me dying more every day. I was only Ginny Weasley, younger sister of Ron Weasley and follower of the Golden Trio. I wasn't important; at least not as important as anyone else that Potter might decide to destroy next. I snorted as I pulled on tight muggle clothes, requested by the holy Potter himself. I sneered his name in my mind, grabbing my wand and waving the thin piece of wood, garish makeup instantly covering my face in a hideous mask. I only glanced at myself in the mirror once, ashamed to look so _cheap_.

I cast a Disillusionment Charm, and headed out of the dormitories. He always wanted me in the dead of night—I was to meet him down in the dungeons at midnight. One of the only questions I had ever asked him was why he met me in the dungeons. Shoving me harshly against the cold, stone wall, I had stifled a whimper as he had snarled at me, low and menacing:

"Because all the bloody prefects are scared shitless of the fucking Slytherins," he had hissed, grabbing me roughly. "No patrols are going to have the balls to come down here and stop me from fucking you."

I slipped through the empty common room, before sliding out the portrait hole. It was true, though; we had never been stopped, unfortunately. Draco Malfoy was Head Boy, and Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were the Slytherin prefects. It was common knowledge that Malfoy and Zabini were too busy shagging each other's brains out and Parkinson just didn't give a shit to actually do what they were supposed to do. So since the beginning of my fifth year I had been subjected to his meetings, six days a week, and no one was there to stop Potter.

It wasn't that I was a bad witch. Far from it, actually. I was at the head of my class, and was already halfway through the seventh year books, learning the spells. I had just been stupid and trusting. When he had first asked me out, I was willing to try and like him, for the sake of the few years that I had fancied myself in love with him. And for the first two weeks, he had been wonderful: charming, polite, and exceedingly nice. But then…trusting him, I had allowed him to cast a spell on me, before I had thought of the effects.

He had told me that it was to make me feel more amorous for him, since he knew that I didn't _really _like him. I don't know where he had gotten then spell, since I was practically doing the same curriculum as him on the side, but I was willing to give it a try. I let him cast it, and that night was the first in a string of many where he raped me. The spell hadn't made me "amorous;" he had somehow found a spell that disabled me from using my magic against him, at all.

I might have been a chaser, but my tiny and lithe body was no match for his taller and more muscular seeker's build. Physically, he would beat me every time. He was a boy, a year older than me, and infinitely larger and stronger than I could ever wish to be. I had no hope, especially when I lost the advantage I had with my magic.

The first time I had tried to go to Ron for help, he'd called me a lying slag, refusing to believe what I had said against his precious Harry-fucking-Potter. Hermione was my next choice, but she too denounced what I had to say, telling me that I was only trying to get attention and get back at Potter for ignoring me all those years. I had gone to them, seeking help, and they were too blinded by Potter's hero complex to even suspect him of abusing me.

I didn't have anyone else to go to, really. Before I had begun to date Potter, I had hooked up with a few of the boys, but that was all they were. Quick hook ups. I had friends, too, but for the most part people preferred to avoid me, thinking that I was somehow still influenced by Voldemort like I had been in my first year. That in itself wasn't as horrifying as people had suspected.

Tom had been my doorway to knowledge, so to speak. I had always been interested, but he fed that craving, showing me the truth: there was no such thing as dark or light magic. Magic was only a tool that could be used. It had gained the definitions by frightened witches and wizards who were too ignorant to know the difference. So powerful magic that had been used to do evil was considered "dark," and the less powerful magic was labeled as "light." That was around the time when I had begun to dabble in the dark arts.

Of course, all that magic was completely wasted when I couldn't even use it on the one I abhorred above all others. And Potter was so controlling I hardly had any time to spend with those that I called "friends." We had drifted apart until I had become so introverted that most people hardly saw me, except to note, _there goes Potter's girl. _

The only time I talked in classes was to answer a question specifically directed at me, and I didn't spend any time in the common room any more, unless it was to walk to my dormitories. I avoided Gryffindor tower as much as possible, since the Golden Trio tended to lurk around there like diseased vultures. Instead, I spent much of my time in the library, or in abandoned classrooms, learning magic that was far too advanced for someone my age to be learning.

I occasionally received owls from Fred and George, hearing about their latest exploits, products, and general news. I had practically severed all communicational ties with the rest of my family, though. They were so bloody ecstatic that I had finally landed their beloved Potter that they didn't even bother to find out how I was feeling in the situation, and the one time I had even begun to hint about how it wasn't going so great in Eden, I had been hushed and told to take what I could get. After that, I had stopped taking mum's owls, and only spoke to the twins any more.

They had picked up on my strange personality switch around, but weren't in any position to do anything. So they did the only thing that they could, and that was to keep me emotionally alive through letters and gifts. Out of my entire family, they were the only ones I cared about, or who cared about me.

I sank back into reality when the temperature starting getting cooler, signaling my arrival in the dungeons. I gripped my wand tightly, knowing that it would be no good against him, but feeling comfort in it nonetheless. My mind starting running through a _long _list of all the spells I would have liked to use on Potter. It was a shame that I couldn't; I knew that I knew enough spells to make even a Death Eater cringe. I grinned maliciously. If only I hadn't let him cast that spell on me…

At least one good thing had come out of it, though. I would _never _trust someone so explicitly again.

Suddenly a rough hand grabbed my upper arm, dragging me into a nearby classroom. I snapped my mouth shut over the scream I could feel building. If I even opened my mouth, I knew he'd punish me doubly so. As the door slammed shut, I was practically thrown back into the hard wood, closing my eyes in pain as my already bruised body thumped against the unforgiving wood. I opened them back up just as quickly, though; to show pain was to show weakness. I couldn't afford to give him anything else to hold over me. I heard a muttered _Colloportus_, effectively locking the door behind us.

"I saw you staring at Longbottom at dinner," he hissed, the grasp on my arm becoming tighter and tighter. I opened my eyes, finding his vivid green eyes narrowed in anger and filled with wild insanity and the promise of pain.

"I was only—" I didn't get the chance to get anything else out, because, lightning fast, his hand whipped up and across my face, my neck twisting so fast I was surprised I hadn't broken it. I remembered what he was talking about; for nearly five minutes, I had tried to regain the courage to talk to Neville about Harry, since we used to be pretty close. But I had lost my nerve when I had glanced to Harry sitting next to me, his gaze filled with veiled hatred.

"I don't_ care _what you were doing, only that you were doing it!" he snarled at me, shaking me for emphasis. "You're _mine_, and you should fucking know by now that you shouldn't even _think _about someone else!" I didn't say anything, and that alone earned me another slap, before he viciously rammed his lips onto mine, biting until I opened my mouth and he forced his tongue through.

My hand tightened on my wand, but that was the only sign that I was affected. Otherwise, I was unmoving and cold, just the way he hated it. I felt as if something was different tonight, off; maybe it was going to be a chance to get away. On a handful of occasions I had run from him, but that always proved to be worse when he finally caught up with me. But the few minutes of reprise that I gained was worth it every time.

Panting, he pulled away from me to glare at me some more.

"Fucking unfeeling bitch," he snapped, squeezing tighter and tighter on my wand arm until I was forced to release my wand and begin to buckle to release the pain slightly. "Think you can stop me by acting like you don't like it. But I know otherwise; I'm Harry Potter, and girls would die to be in your position."

Even nearly bent in half from the way he had begun to twisting my arm, I couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped me. Girls wouldn't die to be in my position; they'd _rather _die than be in my position. Of course, I regretted laughing almost immediately, because his grip tightened even further before I felt him throwing me back against the door.

I gasped in pain as my head collided and colors erupted across my vision. Woozy, I blearily guessed that I had been concussed by his little "love tap" there. I stared at the dirty stones, trying to regain my equilibrium as I heard him swearing at me overhead. Occasionally he would allow me to recover somewhat before he continued his onslaught; this was apparently one of those times. Usually, though, those were the times I managed to escape. This time wasn't going to be any different.

While he was distracted, I murmured _Alohomora,_ unlocking the door. I glanced up discreetly to find him venting his frustrations on a nearby table. That surprised me slightly; usually, he took every opportunity that he could to hurt me. I didn't dwell on it long, though. In seconds, I was dashing through the door and up the hallway, trying to go somewhere, _anywhere_.

I couldn't hear him for maybe half a second, before his muffled curses and breathing drifted to my ears, his feet thumping heavily on the ground. I was sprinting for all I was worth, my own feet practically flying through the air and hardly even touching the ground at all. It was useless, though; he had much longer legs than me, and my only hope was to get to the Room of Requirement. After all, if I went to Gryffindor tower, he'd only make it up there too, since he knew the password as well. But the Room of Requirement…well, if I required him to stay the fuck away from me, the room would give me what I wished.

The only problem was that I had to reach seventh floor without Potter catching up to me, all the way from the dungeons, which was one hell of a sprint. Plus, I'd have to run in front of the door three times before it would open, and I couldn't exactly ask Potter to wait for me. I could see how that conversation would go…

"Potter, just wait for half a minute while I pace in front of this door here. Once it appears, I'm going to slip inside, effectively escaping you. Thanks for understanding."

Yeah right.

I was halfway down the Charms corridor on the third floor when Potter finally got me. With a completely unnecessary spell, too; _Sectumsempra_ wouldn't have been needed to get me to stop, and he definitely didn't need to rip open my right leg. With a cry, I hit the ground, feeling the warm blood already soaking through my jeans and dampening the thin fabric. I rolled to a halt on my left leg, my right leg useless and splayed out behind me. I could only hope that he hadn't slashed a tendon or anything vital, but with the amount of pain it was causing me, it was pretty hard to be sure.

"You bloody bastard!" I spat out, drawing my wand for an ineffectual threat. He had finally caught up, panting heavily as he shot me a death glare. The moonlight coming from a nearby window cast his face into shadows, turning it an eerie and grotesque shape that I couldn't help but think reflected his true personality. His eyes glinted cruelly, one cast in shadow and one covered in the silver moonlight.

"You fucking think that you can fuck around with me and get away with it, and you have for the past bloody year! I am _not _fucking letting you destroy me any further! First you turn my blasted family against me, and then you force my fucking friends away, _after _you raped me countless fucking times, and I haven't been able to do a damn thing about it!" He sneered, lashing out with his right leg with wicked fast speed and causing me to nearly faint clear away when he struck the gash on the back of my leg.

"That's because you're so fucking useless! _Nobody _cares about you enough to even see what's going on right in front of them! And if you think they're going to fucking sit up and see it now, well, you're more off your rocker than I thought!" We were careful to keep our voices to seething whispers, because it just wouldn't do to have a shouting match a little between twelve and one in the morning. And on a school night, to boot.

I was glaring venomously at him, but it did no use, since the expression vanished as he reached down and slapped me to the floor. This time, I stayed down. I just hurt so _much_, and it was much more comfortable here on the floor than it was sitting up, especially with Potter ready to kill me…

I still had my eyes squeezed shut tightly and my blood slowly leaking out of my leg when I heard the icy voice, laced with fury and impending violence, float through the air, somewhere on the side away from Potter.

"Just what the fuck do you think you are doing, Potter?"

* * *

A/N: My first attempt at fan fiction. Like, dislike? Review, and let me know. : )

Note: I got all the spells off of Wikipedia, and a map of the castle off of HP Lexicon.

-Rapture


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Two

"_Just what the fuck do you think you are doing, Potter?" _I wanted to struggle up and found out who it was, and kiss him breathless, since it was definitely a male voice. I just couldn't find enough strength to move, much less wrestle myself up and engage in a bout of gratuitous snogging. Instead, I closed my eyes, hoping that I'd be able to recognize his voice if I focused on it long enough. I prayed to the gods for the stamina so I wouldn't pass out. After all, I had been waiting for over a year for this to happen. No way in hell was I going to miss this.

"He asked you a question, Potter," a second voice whipped out, sharp and cold. "It would be in your best interest to answer him." So it was two people, then. I started regretting my wish for some help now. That was two more people I was going to have to kill to keep my pride intact.

"I don't owe either of you fucking explanations!" Potter spat out, nearly directly over me. I felt my body reflexively cringing and recoiling, trying to draw away without injuring itself further. I heard a noise that sounded remarkably like a growl emanating from the position of my two saviors. Definitely a new noise. I made a mental note to add that to the list of "Strange And Unusual Sounds That Men Make."

Gods, I really _was _concussed. Either that, or completely around the loony bin. Maybe Lovegood and I could have tea someday this week…share some of our various creative stories that came with the package of being clinically insane…

"As a matter of fact," the cold, cold voice purred, coming closer to me and drawing me out of my insane mental ramblings, "I believe you _do_." At this, a gurgle was heard from Potter's vicinity (number seventeen on the list), and I just _had _to see this.

"Help," I croaked, trying to pull myself up. I was unsuccessful; my leg was throbbing, I was seeing odd things, and my limbs refused to work properly. Instantly, someone was there, pulling me up into a sitting position gently. I didn't try turning around to see him, since I had my eyes closed to stop the spinning, and I knew that if I moved too violently my meager dinner was going to end up on the floor. And as much as I had loved those pieces of lettuce and olives, I wasn't particularly interested in seeing them a second time this night.

"Higher," I said, my voice coming out slightly smoother.

"What?" the boy asked me quietly, and I fought to gain control of my traitorous body. All it wanted to do was fall into oblivion, while I wanted to stay up a little while longer and see Potter get pounded into a smelly smear on the floor.

"I want to see Potter," I hissed his name out with venom, but I had to stop to regain my breath, "get his fucking ass _creamed_." The boy chuckled, a warm laugh that sounded like melted chocolate. It seemed to sink into my ears and take up residence in my brain, a rich sound that just screamed delicious. His laugh held the proper amount of loathing, too. Maybe he _wasn't _going to die just because he had seen me at my worst, especially if he despised Potter as much as I did.

I was slightly surprised when I found myself being lifted—straight up into the boy's arms, rather than setting me down on the floor like I had anticipated. Well, considering the alternative, being held against his warm and hard chest wasn't that bad of an option…

I opened my eyes, and if I had had the strength, I would have cackled in glee. All I could manage to do, though, was a weak, but triumphant, smirk. Potter was clawing at the hand that held him inches above the floor, his face purple and splotchy as his eyes bugged out of his head. What may have surprised me the most, though, was who was actually strangling him. Draco Malfoy. And if it was Malfoy in front of me, that meant that Zabini was the one who was holding me. It shocked me just a bit.

Out of all the people in the castle that might have stumbled upon Potter's twisted relationship with me, they were the least expected people I could have ever guessed to find out. Well, besides Firenze, I guess, because he couldn't get anywhere unless it was on the ground floor, due to his inability to climb or descend on stairs. But…Malfoy and Zabini? The Princes of Slytherin, notorious for their dark magic, dark hearts, and even darker love for each other? Maybe I shouldn't have been so shocked. After all, Slytherins were known for their intense loyalty to their own, and, especially the two before me, for their intolerance of abuse.

After all, it was rumored that both of their mothers had been abused. At least until Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, and Zabini's mum had gotten rid of her husband. So it was no wonder that they both despised abuse. And out of all the people in the castle to fall upon this mockery of a relationship, I was immensely satisfied that it was them that got to be the ones to punish him. I only wished that I, too, could have some fun and games and get my own piece of Potter.

"Are you ready to talk yet, Potter?" Malfoy said in a light voice, the promised violence only dancing beneath the surface of his dulcet tones. When the boy in question still looked murderous, Malfoy squeezed harder, only relenting when Potter's eyes began rolling. Disgusted, he dropped Potter to fall into a crumbled heap on the floor, rasping for breath. Malfoy turned, and seeing me in Zabini's arms, relaxed slightly at the sight of his lover.

"How hurt are you?" he asked me in surprisingly gentle tones, ignoring Potter for the moment. I cataloged my injuries.

"_Sectumsempra_ on my leg, concussion, twisted arm," I repeated in the least amount of words I could use. Malfoy turned his deadly gaze upon Potter, kicking him swiftly in the face twice. The second time wasn't needed, as he had been knocked out cold after the first kick, but I didn't mind it. The bastard deserved it.

"Fucking coward," he spat out. "Using _that _curse on a woman? I'd check if he had any balls, if I didn't know I'd probably go blind." I smirked, before that faded for a look of pain and remembered agony. Potter had balls, all right. And when I had my revenge, I was going to make sure that there were nailed to the center of Gryffindor table for the whole school to see.

My malicious thoughts distracted me from the more pressing issues, like how injured I was. I wasn't even holding my head up on my own, leaning my head upon Zabini's chest for support. Gods, I was in bad shape.

"Draco, we need to heal her," Zabini said, diverting Malfoy from his death rant. Malfoy immediately stopped, kicking Potter once more for good measure before striding down the hall, Zabini following with me cradled in his arms. I closed my eyes, trying to focus only on the gentle rocking of his steps rather than the blood that seemed to be pouring out of my leg in a river and the throbbing of my head. I had the odd feeling that it was getting worse…

I cracked my eyes open a tiny slit, glancing around. Malfoy was only a few steps in front of us, striding quickly through the dark halls. As his nearly white hair twisted and bobbed with every step, I marveled at how long and how pretty it was.

"His hair is pretty," I murmured into Zabini's chest, feeling him chuckling through the vibrating of his chest. "It's so long and…long." My mind seemed to be unable to get past that one adjective. I was pretty sure it was my concussion speaking, but I couldn't find it in me to stop. I sighed.

"I've been waiting so long to be free," I said, my voice barely above a whisper and spaced liberally with pauses for breath. "So, so long…I just wish that I could curse his ass to the seventh circle of Tartarus. Too bad he cast that fucking curse on me…" I wanted to crawl out of Zabini's arms and somehow make it back to Potter, just so I could cause him more pain, but I knew it was useless, especially since I could hardly move as it was.

"Are you listening to this?" I heard distantly from Zabini, speaking to Malfoy. My eyes had closed, though, so I didn't get to see if he nodded a yes or a no.

"Weasley, how long as this been going on?" Zabini asked gently into my hair. How long was it, again? Oh yeah. Too long.

"Too fucking long," I murmured, beginning to lose consciousness.

"Keep talking, Weasley. We can't have you sinking into a coma on us," Malfoy said from some position on the left. Apparently, he had slowed down to walk with us.

"Since the beginning of fifth year," I answered blearily, trying to do what he said. "Potter was nice, for two weeks, at least. And then…it was as if he had changed personalities; he cast that spell that prevented me from using any fucking magic on him, and then all I knew was rape, abuse, and loneliness." Now I felt like crying. Dammit. I hated being concussed. It just brought out everything in me. Especially the mushy stuff.

"Do you remember what spell it was?" Zabini asked me. I scoffed.

"Of course I do. Do you take me for Potter?" They both laughed, soft melodious laughs that made me want to sink into sleep, just so I would hear that in my dreams.

"Of course not, Weasley," Malfoy said. "I wouldn't even use that as an insult on my greatest enemies." I smiled at that, before it quickly turned into a grimace of pain. He murmured something else, and I heard the grinding of a statue as it stepped aside, and we were in their room now. To be correct, it was Malfoy's room, since he was Head Boy. But since Zabini and he were lovers, it was natural that they shared the room.

I was laid down gently on a sinfully soft bed, and I melted into it, already starting to fall into sleep. I was startled back into awareness when cool fingertips landed on my temples, holding my head in place. I wanted to panic, but I knew they wouldn't do anything further to me. After all, they had saved me from Potter and nearly killed him. Why would they want to do me in, too?

Malfoy murmured _Episkey_, and I felt the corresponding heat burn through my head, eradicating any trace of a concussion, before it cooled and felt like ice. I shivered. Next, he repeated the same spell on my arm, healing that as well. Zabini had just finished murmuring _Diffindo_, slicing the horrid jeans off of me so he could get to my leg. As one, they flipped me over without having to communicate a thing. Zabini's intake of breath proved to me that it was bad, and I whimpered in expectation of the pain, burying my head in the sheets. A cool hand wove its way through my hair, effectively calming me as Zabini began cleaning it.

First came _Aguamenti_, and I hissed as it pushed back my torn skin, feeling a horrible contrast between the burning of the wound and the ice cold water. Malfoy was still massaging my head when _Episkey_ came, first the burning hot and then the freezing cold. I shivered again, violently, perfectly healed but still emotionally broken. I blinked up at both of them, at an impasse as to what to do now.

"Now what?" I asked in a soft voice. They both exchanged glances, before turning back to me.

"You have two options, really," Zabini said, and I watched as he brushed back a long inky hunk of hair out of his face. His hair was just as long as Malfoy's, apparently. I was briefly surprised to note this. After all, I didn't ever remember seeing such long hair on them; I was under the impression that it was near their shoulders, not hip length. But then again, Potter would always punish me doubly if I even so much as breathed on a boy, so I knew well not to look, especially at Malfoy and Zabini, the most beautiful boys in school. Potter always had held an almost obsessive rivalry against Malfoy, and since Zabini was his lover, Potter hated them both.

"You either go back to Gryffindor Tower, where you're sure to see Potter again," Malfoy started.

"Or you stay here, with us, for the night." Apparently they did the same thing that the twins did; finish each other's sentences. I considered this for a few moments. On the one hand…Potter, and the other two thirds of the fucking Trio. And on the other, a peaceful sleep in the most expensive bed I'd ever sleep in, with no disturbances and two damn nice boys making sure that Potter didn't get anywhere near me.

As if they thought it would actually be a hard choice.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather stay," I said in a meek voice, unsure of anything right now. They could just laugh in my face, now that I had put my trust in them, or they could actually let me stay. I wasn't sure what they were going to choose.

But they nodded, as if they'd known I would choose that all along. Well, on second thought, I bet they _had _known.

"You'll get the bed," Malfoy said in a tone that brook no arguments. I shook my head, slightly too violently, and had to pause for a moment for the colors to stop spinning. They had healed me, but I was obvious not _completely _healed yet. Only sleep would heal the rest of my wounds.

"I can't take your bed," I protested. Zabini shot me a glare.

"Yes, you can," he said coldly, standing. I sat up gingerly.

"No," I said mulishly, refusing to give in. "This bed is big enough for five people. You guys can sleep in here with me."

A few moments later, I realized what I had proposed, and flushed scarlet, picking at their black coverlet.

"Well, I mean, if you guys wouldn't mind sharing a bed with a _Weasley_," I spat out my own name as if it was vile, feeling beyond embarrassed. Something soft flew and wrapped around my head, and it snapped me out of my musings as I pulled it off and stared at it, trying to figure out what exactly Malfoy had thrown at me. It was incredibly soft, and without even knowing what it was, I was running my hands over it.

"It's a shirt," Zabini said, exasperated. "You can't expect to sleep in that whorish get up, especially with half of your pants missing anyway." I blushed, and glanced up, ensuring that they were both looking the other way before shimmying out of the shirt and tugging it on. The pants came off, too, leaving me only in my bra, panties, and the largest shirt I'd ever worn in front of the Slytherin Princes.

It wasn't that they were fat or anything. Their torsos were just much larger than mine, so it hit me mid thigh, creating an effective, albeit unfashionable, nightshirt. The shirt itself was emerald, and I knew it must have created a violent contrast with my blood red hair._ I bet I look like a blasted Christmas tree_, I thought snarkily. But I didn't want to say anything; after all, they had done more in this one night than anyone had ever done for me.

Besides, that shirt was beyond heavenly to touch. I made sure neither of them were looking when I discreetly took a sniff of the shirt, and felt my lips curve into a small smile when I smelled the cologne on it. One of them—or more likely, both—wore some pretty damn nice smelling cologne. Potter only ever smelled of sweat or cheap deodorant, so their expensive cologne was a pleasant change.

I turned around on the bed and crawled to the head, before snuggling inside sleepily. I was vaguely away of Zabini and Malfoy talking in hushed tones, but I couldn't be bother to decipher actual words from the jumbled murmur of sweet sounding voices. I hadn't even had a chance to full inspect their room, either; it was probably more money than I would ever see in my life. Hell, the bed itself probably cost more than my own house did.

I inhaled, in the process getting a very large dosage of Malfoy and Zabini smell. Smiling sleepily, I sniffed again, finding that they caused my mind to shut down until it was only working on an instinctual level. Smells and sounds were the only things that my brain was taking note of, and since the only sounds to be heard were their whispered conversation, out of respect for their privacy my brain decided to focus on the lesser of two evils, which was their delicious smelling cologne.

It just smelled so much better than any of the other cheap things I had smelled before. After all, it was probably about twenty times more expensive than anything I had smelled before, too, but still. Why not enjoy it why I could? I smiled softly, taking another, much drowsier whiff. _They smell edible _was my last thought before I slipped into sleep.

* * *

A/N: So...loads of effin reviews from chapter one. Question: Do you guys prefer me to respond to them in the chapters, (like down below) or on my profile page? If you tell me chapters, I'll have one and two's reviews in chapter three, which will be out around sunday-ish.

I'm also going to have some questions up on my profile page that I'd like answered, just general questions about the formatting of this thing.

Thank you so much for reading this, all of you who did!

I haven't really decided where I'm going with the current events. I.E. if there was the war with Voldemort, if it's still going on, etc. I'll get around to it.

-Rapture


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Three

When Blaise woke up, he was met with an interesting predicament. For one, he could feel Draco, but wedged in between them was a woman. Initially, he had assumed that it was only Pansy, but he hadn't remembered getting up and having to help her deal with her nightmares. So he immediately ruled that out, especially when he realized that the woman was much shorter and _far _thinner, even though she certainly wasn't lacking in any areas, unless it was the area of eating properly.

He sniffed, and found the air filled with her scent and Draco's, but he still couldn't identify her. Finally, he opened his eyes, and was met with a mass of crimson curls. Rage towards Potter poured through him when he recalled exactly _why _a certain Miss Ginny Weasley was in Draco's bed with him. When he met Draco's mercurial eyes over the top of her head, he found that Draco was also feeling a few less-than-friendly feelings for the Order's Boy Who Wouldn't Die.

It was all in Draco's eyes: hatred, pity, sadness, compassion, and most importantly, love. Love for Blaise, a love that Blaise knew he wasn't near deserving enough. He didn't think anyone short of a god would be good enough for Draco. He marveled every day just how damn lucky he was that their mothers had met through a rivalry of their own mothers. It had bonded them together for a lifetime of friendship, founded upon a mutual desire for rebellion, and ensured that Blaise and Draco would be attached at the hip from birth.

Draco flicked his eyes to the right, indicating that they should get out of bed. As one they drew away from the youngest Weasley, and headed towards the couch that faced the fire. She let out a tiny noise at the loss of their presence, but she seemed to placate herself after taking a calming breath of the pillow she was sleeping on, obviously smelling their own scents that were embedded there and finding the smell comforting.

Draco watched Blaise collapse in a sinuously graceful flop onto the couch, before practically diving on top of Blaise himself. He snuggled into the warmth of Blaise, entwining their fingers as he observed the blended strands of black and near white that seemed to cascade around them in a silky waterfall.

"Buon giorno, amore," Blaise murmured onto the top of Draco's head. They had long ago decided that they would speak to each other in Italian, the language that bridged both of their own backgrounds, French and Greek. ((Good morning, love.))

"Stesso a lei," Draco replied, turning slightly to place a light kiss on the pulse point of Blaise's alabaster neck. ((Same to you.))

"Di che tu ha sognato?" Blaise asked, his voice never rising high enough to disturb the additional person in Draco's room. ((What did you dream of?))

"Non ciò che, chi," Draco corrected coyly. ((Not what, who.))

"Ah, la perseguito ancora? Sembra come devo essere nei suoi sogni ogni notte," Blaise teased him, weaving his hand into Draco's long hair and drawing him even closer. Draco snorted. ((Ah, am I haunting you again? It seems like I must be in your dreams every night.))

"Lei me perseguita soltanto perché non potrei prendere la sua faccia sanguinante fastidiosa fuori della mia mente." Blaise chuckled, his hand stroking lower down Draco's chest until he had reached a spot that must have been _very _annoying for Draco. ((You're only haunting me because I couldn't get your bloody annoying face out of my mind.))

"Insanguina per infastidire? Direi sanguinante orgasmico, più amando," Blaise said huskily, relishing the gasp that Draco made when he massaged just the right spot for him. ((Bloody annoying? I'd say bloody orgasmic, more like.))

They both had to stop, though, when they heard the slight grinding of stone on stone that signified someone coming into their room, and they both tensed, glancing towards the entrance so they would be able to discern if it was a friend or foe that had entered. They relaxed when they found that it was only Pansy. She smirked at them, gliding over in a sashay that emphasized her slim curves in all the right places, stopping when she was staring at them from in front of the fireplace.

"What are you two doing up so early?" she asked them in English. Her voice was louder than theirs had been, and Blaise turned his head so he could see over the couch, making sure that Weasley hadn't woken up. He relaxed when she only rolled over in her sleep, revealing the barest glimmer of pale flesh that was visible from the low sheets. As tantalizing as that image was, though, he had to turn around and pay attention to Pansy. She looked confused.

"Scratch that—who do you have in bed? You two have been monogamous since that night in Patra," she stated in a much quieter voice, mentioning a city in Greece where they had vacationed the summer before. "And even then, it was me you were with." Nearly simultaneously, haughty smirks were plastered upon each of their faces, as well as remembered pleasure. She collapsed in the empty place next to them, absently playing with a lock of each of their hair.

"She needed a place to stay," Draco murmured into Blaise's throat, biting gently after he had finished buzzing his lips against the skin he found there. Blaise let out an almost inaudible gasp, which Pansy chose to ignore. She knew just how…_active _they were in the mornings, and typically she would have let them be, but there were much more pressing matters.

"And who is this 'she?'" Pansy asked, arching an eyebrow. Blaise shrugged.

"Why don't you go see yourself?" When Pansy figured out that they weren't going to outright tell her, she huffed in annoyance before stalking over to the bed. Once she got there, she gazed, puzzled, at the large amount of red curls that were smeared violently across the bed spread, and the pale body that accompanied it, before her mouth nearly fell open in shock. She hurried back to Blaise and Draco, sitting down heavily before turning to them.

"You brought a _Weasley _in here?" she hissed, still careful to keep her voice down despite her apparent loathing for the redhead. Blaise nodded nonchalantly, laying his head back to offer further access to Draco's probing mouth.

"Why did you bring Potter's bitch into _your _room?" Draco stopped nibbling on Blaise's neck long enough to shoot her a venomous glare, before returning back to the smooth column of flesh. Blaise spoke for Draco.

"Don't call her that," he answered idly. She gazed, incredulous. Since when did _they _care about what she called anything related to Potter?

"Why not? What's gotten in to you? Oh…you didn't do _that_, did you?" A look of horror swept over her face. She was speaking of the plan they had a few months back, completely drunk and ranting about Potter. They had said that it would be funny to have sex with Potter's girl—after all, she sure as hell wasn't bad looking, and that probably would have pissed him off even more. Blaise shook his head leisurely.

"No, we didn't have sex with her. Can't you just drop it? She's staying here, whether you like it or not, at least for a few nights." Pansy looked shell shocked.

"Why is she in your room?" she asked, in a much calmer voice, hoping that that would persuade them to tell her. Blaise rolled his head so he could look her in the eye, seeming to be only slightly affected by Draco's ministrations on his neck and other places.

"It's not our story to tell. If she wakes up, and she wants to tell you, then you can hear it. Otherwise, I'd advise you to shut the hell up about her." Properly chastised, she sank back into the couch, lazily watching them as they got a bit more violent in their morning activities, Blaise bringing up Draco's face so he could mash it against his in a passionate kiss. A tiny thump signaled Weasley's return to the living, and Pansy glanced over the couch to meet the disoriented eyes of the girl.

Violet eyes met stunned golden amber, and Pansy wondered just _how _the little lion would take to seeing two Slytherin men going at it.

* * *

It was the utter sense of contentment and comfort that woke me, since my sleeping hours were usually spent in fear and anxiety in my hard four-poster bed in Gryffindor tower. However, the bed I was in was unbelievably soft and warm, and that alone had me wondering just where the hell I was. My eyes drifted open slowly, my breath catching when I didn't recognize the green silk that was surrounding the bed.

But, with my excellent powers of deduction, I came to the conclusion that I was in a Slytherin room somewhere, since all of Hogwart's rooms were either classrooms or House rooms, which were always done in their house colors. I rolled over slightly, the light buzz of voices finally reaching my sleep hazed mind. I tried deciphering them, but only caught a few words here and there: "sex," "she wakes up," and "your room" being among the loudest. I wanted to bolt, since obviously it was a few people talking about me, and _sex_, but I didn't want to seem too afraid, so I rolled over to the edge of the bed, falling to the ground lightly.

I glanced up and found my startled gaze captured by a lovely violet one, and my mind hurried to make sense of what I was seeing and hearing. Pansy Parkinson was the owner of the purple gaze, while passionate noises were coming from the other side of the couch that she was sitting on. I remembered just _what _had happened last night, and employed my amazing deduction powers again and figured out that it was Malfoy and Zabini that were sounding like wild animals tearing into each other.

Parkinson cleared her throat at my slight discomfort, and the sounds dissipated, before two tousled heads popped up over the couch to join Parkinson in their ogling. Meeting one silver gaze, and then one cerulean one, before switching back to Parkinson's slightly more comforting violet one, I pleaded with my eyes for _something_. Understanding whatever it was I was trying to beg of her, she turned to the two men.

"_Out_," she commanded them sternly. The both turned their gazes to Parkinson, shocked.

"You're kicking us out of our own _room_?" Zabini asked, stunned. She nodded firmly.

"_My _room," Malfoy muttered, before Parkinson shook her head sternly.

"Regardless. I want both of you the hell out of here before I count to five," she said menacingly. They both rose gracefully, and I had to stifle the urge to giggle at the wounded looks they shot her. They glanced at me, before both walking towards their door.

"You've got twenty minutes, Parkinson," Malfoy called over his shoulder, before walking out of the room. I turned back to Parkinson with an apprehensive look on my face. What did she want with me, alone?

* * *

"Twenty minutes?" Blaise hissed in between kissing Draco violently against the wall he was pressed against, Draco's body pinning him between a rock and a hard place—a _very _hard place. "Are you serious?"

"You're right," Draco panted, grinding his hips against Blaise's and causing him to moan in delicious agony, "I think I'm going to be finished in five."

* * *

Anxiously, I watched the door close behind the two boys before turning back to Parkinson, nearly jumping when I realized how close she had gotten in the few seconds I had taken my eyes off of her. Her fashionably little inky bob was only about two feet away from me, appraising violet eyes taking me in.

"So," she said, and I resisted the urge to snort. _How eloquent_, I thought dryly. I had expected a bit more from the third most respected Slytherin, only bested by Malfoy and Zabini. "Just what the hell were you doing sleeping in their bed?" Oh, so _there _was the eloquent Slytherin I had expected.

"They…brought me here?" I said in a meek voice, the statement coming out more as a question than anything. Parkinson snorted derisively.

"I got that much. I didn't think you of all people would be able to get into their room." I glared at her; just because I was forced to date a dumb ass and be related to one, too, didn't mean that _I _was a dumb ass.

"I'm not an idiot," I snapped, loosing my scared attitude as easily as it had come. I had to stop my large desire to curse her into oblivion, because I knew that wouldn't solve anything, and would probably only get me on the wrong side of my "saviors." She smirked, as if to say, _prove it_. I glared at her.

"Why don't I take your wand and shove it so far up—" Parkinson shook her head and grinned ruefully, interrupting me.

"No need to get into threats," she said hastily. I scowled at her, itching to do exactly what I had said, but choosing not to. After all, she was friends with Malfoy and Zabini, and they had helped me out…

"We need to get you some clothes," she said firmly, heading for a large dresser. "Luckily, I always keep a spare change of clothes in here, and you're only slightly shorter than me, nothing a bit of transfiguring won't fix…" she trailed off, still mumbling as she tossed clothes so expensive I had probably never even touched something about a quarter as much as they were worth onto the floor. Parkinson finally reemerged with a pair of slinky black pants and an emerald shirt, plus a set of standard black robes for later. She handed them to me, before turning back to the mess she had made on the floor.

"Bathroom's over there, if you want to get changed in there…" she said, waving vaguely to a door to the right of the fireplace. There was still one door left, but that was on the other side of the fireplace, and if I had to make a guess as to what it would be, I would say that it was a closet. Either that, or just a random empty room. But I had been in Hermione's Head Girl room once or twice, and knew that there was a main room, a bathroom, and a closet, so process of elimination said that the last door would lead to a closet.

I walked inside the bathroom and had to do my best not to gasp in surprise. Hermione's bathroom had never been as elegant as _this_. It was entirely done in glittering black marble, with green and silver accents throughout. The water basin on my right was a bowl of black marble, sitting as if placed upon the marble counter top, with three silver faucets leaning over it. The bathroom was lit with green candles that let out a soft green glow upon everything in the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and saw that it turned my flesh into an almost sickly looking color and my hair into even a darker and bloodier red.

My eyes wandered over to the large tub, large enough to be from the Prefect's bathroom. I remembered what that looked like because Fred and George had gotten the password off of _somebody _and had given it to me in my third year. I had gone there religiously, preferring the large tub to the cramped showers of the Gryffindor dorms, until they had changed the password for the next year. This tub didn't have as many faucets, but it still had quite a few. It seemed to be set into a little enclave off of the main bathroom, and I had almost missed it.

Next, my eyes drifted over to the shower, which I decided to use. Making sure the door was closed, I shed the clothes I was wearing, careful to keep out my underwear and bra for later use and my wand safely secured under both, and hopped in the warm jets. In no time, fog was wafting out of the shower as I cleaned my hair with more expensive smelling soaps that reminded me intensely of Malfoy and Zabini. I didn't take as long a shower as I would have liked, desperate to get the taint of Potter off of me, but I took a long enough one for it to be luxurious.

After stepping out, I toweled myself off with fluffy emerald towels, before getting dressed and going through the drawers until I found a brush for my hair. I quickly brushed it all out, leaving stringy and damp crimson hair soaking my shirt. I pocketed my wand, not using a drying spell. I much preferred my hair to dry naturally than with a spell, because whenever I _did _use a spell, it turned out frizzy and uncontrollable. I folded the emerald shirt up, placing it on the marble counter gently.

I knew what I was doing—I was avoiding the inevitable meeting between Malfoy, Zabini, Parkinson, and I. They would probably want some answers—that was understandable, considering the position they found me in. I couldn't help but want to stall, though, and stared at my nervous face in the mirror. I took one last calming breath before turning to the door, heading out.

For better or for worse, whatever was waiting for me outside the bathroom couldn't have gotten any worse than Potter, and I found comfort in knowing that _nothing_ could get that bad. It gave me enough strength to walk back into the room, my head held high and my fears pushed into the back of my mind.

* * *

A/N: Okayyy...so I obviously don't speak Italian. At all. So, if you do speak Italian, and would be willing to translate for me, tell me. Otherwise, you're stuck with freetranslation . com.

Big revelations: I've decided a few things in concern to reviews. 1) I will answer all reviews on my profile page. 2) If I find a review that has a question which I think all the readers would benefit from, I'll post it down below. 3) Not related to reviews, but...I'm going to try and update as soon as I can. But since my initial review count was 13 for the first chapter, I'm expecting that many for the following chapters. So, 26 for Chapter 2 (which I got), 39 for Chapter 3, and etc. It shouldn't be a problem, since you guys all rock. :D

I had a lot of trouble this chapter sticking to Malfoy/Zabini/Parkinson instead of Draco/Blaise/Pansy. Ginny's POV was annoying. And how did you like the third person? I don't usually write in that person, so it was a change for me.

I also went back and edited all the spelling and typo errors, so I hope it's not as crappy to read. Thanks!

-Rapture (don't forget to check my profile to my reply to your review OR reviews!)


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Four

I stepped back into the bedroom, anxiously tugging on my clothes as I surveyed the scene quickly. Malfoy and Zabini were looking _very_ satisfied on the cough, leaving me with no doubts as to what they had been doing while I was taking a shower. Parkinson had been watching them, a very Slytherin smirk plastered on her face, when she saw me, timidly standing half in the bathroom and half out. She cleared her throat, turning the other two's gazes upon me. I shifted from foot to foot anxiously.

"You can sit down," Zabini said, waving his hand out to the other side of the loveseat that Parkinson was sitting on. I approached the seat cautiously, before sitting down just on the edge of the seat. I caught the amused glances they exchanged with each other; well, I couldn't really help it. After all, they were _Slytherins_; the ones that I had been programmed to hate since I had first heard of Hogwarts. And the same went for them; really, I think the only reason they were being civil to me was because it was Potter that they had caught abusing me. They'd probably do anything to piss _him_ off.

I resolved at least to not let my tension ruin whatever had come over them. I practically owed them my life, and it would be just plain rude to piss them off, and have them throw me out on my ass. I much preferred Malfoy's Head Boy room to staying at Gryffindor tower. So I took a deep breath, shoving all my fear to the back of mind as I visibly straightened and gained a cool and emotionless gaze that could have given theirs a run for their money.

"So…I'm guessing you're going to want an explanation?" I asked, looking at Parkinson first since she was the one that knew the least.

_That_, I privately reasoned with myself, _and with them staring at me I can't concentrate at _all.

"Explanations would be nice," Parkinson said, her voice dry and concealing her interest behind disinterest. I nodded, wondering just where I could start this.

"Start from the beginning, if you will," Malfoy's soft voice broke through my musings as if he had read my mind, causing me to glance at him and then away just as quickly. I knew he hadn't _really _read my mind; I was well shielded and quite skilled at Occlumency. Even if he was even better than me, it would take him some time to find a way into my mind. Besides, I would have felt him if he had tried stealing my thoughts. I knotted my hands in my lap, having no extra fabric to twist as I began my story.

"I suppose the only beginning is with Tom," I said, my mind already starting to drift back into the past. "Everything in our world revolves around him—or, at least, it did. A small part of my life revolved around him, and still does. Tom taught me to question, to learn, to discover. He was the greatest thing that ever happened to me, and I probably would have joined him if he hadn't been so intolerant. As a wizard, he was _brilliant_, but as a person…he was a perversion of nature, after he gave up his soul for immortality."

They nodded in remembrance of the late Dark Lord. They had all holed up at Bel Sacrificio, Zabini's Italian mansion meaning "Beautiful Sacrifice," when the war had _really _started, not choosing either side and practically forced to flee the country, to Italy. All three had disappeared, along with Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Vasiliki Zabini, Severus Snape, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Rodolphus Lestrange.

It was the last two that had astounded the population and infuriated Voldemort. I didn't know the full story, like the whys or hows, but Voldemort's most avid follower had seemed to come to a complete turn around, along with her husband, disappearing presumably to the same place where the small amount of remaining Malfoys and Zabinis had gone. They were still wanted, but lawyers were closing their multiple cases every day. Soon enough, they would even be able to walk through the wizarding world without being cursed.

"Did you read the Prophet when it came out with the story on the Final Battle?" I asked. Parkinson nodded, and both of the boys gave miniscule nods as well.

"It was wrong. Edited and glorified, it held just the right amount of horror to silence any who spoke against the Ministry and just the right amount of lies to hide the truth. Who do you believe killed Dumbledore?"

"Voldemort," Zabini said immediately, his voice flat and expressionless. I smiled sadly.

"No. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, killed Dumbledore." Only the briefest bit of surprise shone through their emotionless masks. "Granted, Voldemort had possessed Potter, but I don't know how much was Voldemort and how much was Potter. Afterwards, though, he lost it, and _that _was how he killed Voldemort: imbued with hatred and loathing from Voldemort, the knowledge that he had just killed Dumbledore proved too much for his pure mind, and he snapped.

"He probably would have been unable to kill him otherwise. Ironic, you know? Voldemort managed to kill Dumbledore, but the corruption he filled Potter with was the very stuff that enabled Potter to kill him." They smirked, but it didn't last long, falling off their faces so they would hear me better, once my voice dropped lower and lower.

"I was there. Hermione suggested that Voldemort's hate be put into someone…less important. After Voldemort's death, his psyche was still in Potter, his malevolence festering like a rotten wound. He wasn't _alive_, not in any sense, but his—I don't know, his wrath, his perversion—was still in him, and Hermione thought it would be better that their savior remained pure and untouched, a beacon of light they could use to put on a pedestal for all to admire. She wanted someone else to take the psyche."

"That's powerful dark magic, though; I doubt any of those Light mage pansies would even know how to begin that spell," Zabini interrupted, and I nodded.

"They didn't. Hermione only remembered the spell from a warning she once read in her safe and easy books. I knew how to do it. They had initially chosen me to take his wrath. I was the logical choice: I had been possessed by him before, I knew much more dark magic than anyone there, and I knew how to do the spell. Can you guess what I told them when it was proposed to me?" Parkinson smirked.

"You told them that as the caster, you weren't able to take his psyche into yourself." I smirked in return.

"Of course." I sank farther into the couch, my confidence growing. I knew that if I played falsely modest, they'd only see me as a fake, since I was really proud that I had managed to trick the Golden Trio plus nearly all of the Order members.

"In the end, the decision was quickly made by Potter's growing desire to kill everyone surrounding him. My noble brother and the loyal book worm would do the brave thing, the good thing; they would share Voldemort's evil." I smiled wickedly at this, before feeling it fade. No, it had been a good trick to play on them at the time, but it had only turned out worse and worse. "It wasn't too hard, but by the time I was done, it was too late for anything to be done if they ever wanted to reverse its effects. They would all be stuck with a piece of Voldemort in them, forever."

That was one of the most ironic parts, that the three heroes from the Light, the ones that spend the most time in the press and spotlight, were now each the owner of one third of the mental imbalances of the most determined megalomaniacs to ever grace the earth.

"Originally I had done it to get back at them, a petty retribution for trying to land me with Voldemort again. Tom wasn't bad, not by a long shot, but Voldemort wasn't even Tom any more. A few months later, Harry asked me out. My parents believed it was a match made in heaven; too bad I wasn't too keen on hooking up with the one boy who I would never like again. But for their sake, and the sake of Harry himself, I went out with him. He was decent, I suppose, but he never really made me come to a passionate boil." I exchanged a glance with Pansy, and we both smirked. We knew what _that _felt like, for sure.

"A few weeks in…he tried casting a spell on me, a spell that would make me 'like him more,' if I remember correctly. Foolishly, I was willing to give it a try. After all, I had spent years pining over him, so I owed the boy that much, even if I didn't feel any more love in _that _sense for him than I did my own brother. It was…dark magic, very dark. It made me unable to curse him, to hurt him with magic; he was impervious to it from me. It probably only worked because he had used my wand, too." I sneered in disgust at myself and him. Malfoy looked livid.

"The Power Bind?" he asked coldly. I nodded in confirmation.

"The asshole," I commented offhandedly, before returning to my story. "After that, he started beating me." A tiny noise from Parkinson made me look towards her, but I dismissed it. She looked normal from here.

"It wasn't that bad, at first; a few words here, a slap there. But it got worse…slaps turned to punches, punches turned to curses, words turned to full-fledged insulting." My voice was quiet now, and I was inspecting my white knuckled hands in my lap as I spoke barely above a whisper. "Soft and gentle kisses went to demanding and harsh…slow caresses became rape…" I trailed off, my voice aching with remembered horror.

"He took his anger out on me, and it wasn't as if I could go to anyone. My parents adored him, the other two were just as corrupted, and honestly, who would listen to me? Ginny Weasley, younger sister of Ron and known in the Order as a dark mage, or Harry Potter, the Boy Who Just Wouldn't Die?" I was turning bitter, my hands were gripping each other tighter, and I was feeling more and more rage and suppressed tears welling up inside of me. Next to me, Parkinson was just as tense, and the other two were looking murderous.

"What time is it?" Parkinson asked in a cheerful voice. I turned to her, wondering whatever had caused her to be so cheerful, and found that she was smiling a queer smile that looked obviously forced.

"Nearly nine," Zabini answered in a guarded tone. She brightened, before standing up quickly.

"If you'd excuse me, I need to go do some…business." She smiled, before heading towards the door swiftly.

"Pansy…" Malfoy said, stopping her in her tracks. "You can't go kill Potter. He'd be surrounded by the whole lot of Gryffindors, in the middle of the Great Hall. You'd go to Azkaban for sure, and you won't do any good for us there." She turned around and scowled, gripping her wand tightly.

"Draco, no! The little shit deserves to have his balls cursed right off! You know it, I know it, we all fucking know it! You can't stop me from doing what Weasley over there wants to do!" she said, her voice rising louder and louder as her actions got more and more violent. I shrank into the couch; this was beyond what I had seen the Slytherins at. Usually, they kept there cool, but now…Parkinson was practically hysterical.

"Shh, Pansy love," Zabini cooed, standing up and heading towards her cautiously. The wild girl was panting, her shoulders rising up and down with each breath as her eyes darted from all three of us to the exits, and back again, looking for all the world like a cornered animal. What in the seven hells was going on?

"He's not here," Malfoy said, standing up slowly as well as his boyfriend got closer to Parkinson. When he was close enough to touch her, she burst into tears. I stared, bewildered; there was something that I was obviously missing, but I couldn't figure out what. There was no way in hell that Parkinson was getting this emotional over _me_. Zabini embraced her sobbing form, pulling her to the bed and murmuring into her hair as he held her protectively. Malfoy shot a glare at me, as if to say "this is _your _fault," before heading over to both of them while I sat, dejected and feeling like a complete intruder, on the couch. I stood up and headed for them, wanting to help but knowing I would be unable to.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly. Both Zabini and Malfoy shot me dirty glares, but Parkinson's sobs quieted down to sniffles.

"Why should I tell _you_?" she hissed at me, the effect ruined by the ill-timed hiccup that interrupted her. All three glared at me, and I resisted the urge to cower. After all, they were _incredibly _intimidating.

"You don't have to, I'll just be leaving…" I said, quickly turning around and making a break for the exit. I heard a muffled curse from either Malfoy or Zabini, before a hand was dropped on my shoulder, causing me to spin around. It was Parkinson, her face a bit red and damp with tears.

"No, stay. You deserve to know, anyway." Confused, but willing to listen, I followed her back to the bed, where she sank into the embrace of the two Slytherins and I sat uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. I would wait for her to start on her own time, and it took her a few moments to compose exactly what she was going to tell me, a Gryffindor _and _a Weasley, without revealing too much. "Silence is key" seemed to be their motto.

"I was abused, too. Not raped, but abused. Not by a boyfriend, either, but my own bloody fucking _father_." The last word was said with such vehemence that it was obvious that she didn't even think of the horrid man as anything resembling a father figure. I thought it was bad with Potter, but if my own _father _started abusing me…? I tried imagining it, but just couldn't. The notion was too abstract, too impossible, too disturbing for me to even consider. She didn't expand beyond what she said, either, and that made it all the more horrible.

"I…" I tried searching for words, but a simple "I'm sorry" wouldn't even begin to encompass the empathy I felt for her. Instead, I reached forward, tracing a symbol onto her closest hand and chanting the incantation in my head. The symbol I traced flared dark red, before sinking into her skin. It used to be used upon warriors who had suffered a certain fate, or accomplished a certain task, uniting them together in life and death as brethren of whatever task or horror they did. I had changed it slightly, so now it was only like a sorrow symbol, making her know that I felt exactly how she did.

"Weasley…" Her voice trailed off, but her violet eyes met mine and no words needed to be said. She understood.

We sat like that for another twenty minutes or so, Parkinson composing herself while the other two Slytherins and I offered our silent support. I had begun to zone out, thinking of nothing in particular, when she sprung out of their arms as if nothing had happened.

"Well, Weasley, you don't intend on returning to that blasted red tower of yours, do you?" I looked at her, trying to figure out what she was getting at, before shaking my head as a no.

"Now that I'm out…I don't think I can go back in." She nodded firmly.

"Good." Now I began to doubt her sanity. That definitely was _not _a good thing, being exiled from one's own house. Well, maybe that was a bit drastic, but if Potter decided to turn the whole house against me, that was essentially what it was going to be like. "You obviously can't stay here, since they shag like bunnies…" She waved her hand, gesturing to the two boys, who grinned maliciously, the look they shared with each other filled with dark promises. "…so the only other choice is with me." I blinked; did she really just say what I thought she said?

"…what?" I asked, trying to decipher her meaning. She grinned a purely Slytherin smirk.

"You. Will. Stay. With. Me," she repeated, as if she was speaking to a foreign person who understood no English whatsoever.

"But…isn't that against some kind of rule? And staying in Slytherin house…are you sure that's a good idea?" She shook her head brightly.

"Of course it's a bad idea! My whole house hates you out of default! But, they'd better suck it the hell up, or else _their _asses are the ones that are going to be sent home in tiny boxes." Was this woman _insane_? I questioned in amazement. She probably had some obscure mental disease that wasn't obvious until it sprung out on you, like it was doing now…

"But…I don't even _know _you. We hate each other, remember?" I tried feebly. Parkinson shot me a death glare that silenced me.

"I don't know you either, but I know you well enough…err, I _don't _know you well enough, but I _won't _let you go back there to bloody _Potter_," she spat his name out. I grinned at her fellow loathing.

"What about my things? And meals? Classes?" I fired off at her. She ticked them off on her fingers.

"We'll get a house elf to grab your stuff, although I don't think most of it would be fit to clothe one of those blasted creatures…meals, we can grab from the kitchens until I'm sure that Potter won't attack you at meal times, and for classes, I'll just have a few Slytherins make sure that Potter doesn't kill you," she smirked in triumph.

"How are you going to coerce a few Slytherins into guarding a noble lion?" I asked, wondering about that. Parkinson looked mischievously at the two boys lounging on the bed, who had started snogging without me even noticing. I had to drag my eyes away with a blush before I stared too long, though.

"We'll just threaten them with the two Princes," she said in amusement. She beckoned me to rise. "Come. Let's leave them to their…questionable activities. We've got a lot to do if we're going to get you moved into my room before noon."

* * *

A/N: Woah, loads of explanation! So, I won't be updating until at least Monday, since I'm heading down to San Diego for a soccer tournament...but that doesn't mean you shouldn't review! Check my profile for review responses, and I would be tremendously thrilled if you went and answered some of my questions. They help me improve my writing. :D

I didn't really look over this one once I had updated it, so if there's a few mistakes, tell me, and I'll fix them. It looked fine in Word, though.

I didn't know if I should mention it or not, but I'm basically ignoring the fact that there were any books past the Order of the Phoenix. Otherwise, it's completely wrong. So I guess you could call it AU, or whatever, but I'm just living in my own little dream world. So, whatever.

Until later!

-Rapture


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Five

Parkinson had subsided into silence as we made our way quickly down the halls and deeper into the school. Rather than make me nervous, though, _this_ was the person I had expected, so it calmed me down when she wasn't talking. I could even imagine that we hadn't even shared such a colossal emotional break down of sorts.

Luckily for me, breakfast was still going on, so hardly any students or teachers were walking around, even less near the Slytherin dungeons. After all, most were afraid to venture so close to the Den of Snakes. Parkinson had one thing right: the Dream Team would have to grow some_ serious _balls if they were going to find the courage to hunt me down here. I could feel the dark magic that was infused in the stones, the result of hundreds of years of young dark mages' experimentation. As we went deeper and deeper into the castle, the magic became almost tangible, making me heady with the potency of it.

"You get used to it," Parkinson said with a smirk, not stopping her stride as I floated on behind her in a veritable haze. It _felt _like I was floating, but I was betting that I was stumbling down the hallway like a drunk.

"I'm not sure if I want to," I muttered, causing her to chuckle. When she stopped, I didn't realize it, too busy trying to come down from the high I was in to stop. She wrapped an arm around my waist, effectively stopping me.

"Hold on a minute, my drunken redhead. Take note of where you are, since I'm not giving you the password. For now, if you want in, find me. As a last resort, find Blaise or Draco. They'll get you in, but I'd prefer it if you stick with me." I nodded, watching her step right up next to a wall that was completely bare and facing a portrait of a dark haired man. I stepped closer to the portrait for a better look.

It was a man in his middle twenties, and beautiful. His hair was midnight black, like Zabini's, while his skin was pale ivory. His eyes, though, they were the color of Malfoy's: icy grey mercury. The only thing that made it seem as if all three weren't triplets was the fact that this man had a little mustache and goatee. I saw him making an appraisal of me as I did him, making me want to cower under his powerful gaze. I took a step back and bowed.

"My Lord Slytherin," I murmured to the life-sized portrait. I felt Parkinson do the same beside me. I didn't look back up just yet; he hadn't given me leave to do so. I had known who he was as soon as I had seen him. After all, Salazar Slytherin made so many great breakthroughs in potions and curses that it was impossible to now know what he looked like if you were as much of a dark mage as I was.

"Miss Parkinson," he greeted in a smooth voice, "why art thou bringing students from other houses to Slytherin? She hath the eyes of a Prewett, but the hair of a commoner."

"My lord, may I present to you Miss Ginevra Weasley, daughter of Molly Prewett and Arthur Weasley." I stayed lowered.

"Rise, child." I pulled up, meeting the startling silver eyes of the painting. "How didst thou know me? My picture hath been all but erased from any of the books that the Hogwarts library may contain." I nodded in agreement. Hogwarts _did _have a few dark books, but none that were dark enough to contain his illustrious profile. Besides, after he had left, the remaining founders had made sure that the only thing that remained of him was his House name. Even their eradication of all things Salazar Slytherin-related hadn't been successful; the Chamber of Secrets stood as a testimony for this.

"I found your name in the book _The Art of Breath Stealing and Others_, my lord. I believe that you invented the _Tarispundra _spell." He blinked in surprise, before looking at me again in a calculating way.

"I am afraid I jumped to conclusions about thee, Miss Weasley," he said. I smirked.

"It is fine, my lord. I understand how a Weasley can be seen as uneducated. I seem to be one of the few exceptions, but with my bastard of a brother running around the school, it is hard to not succumb to the common consensus of Weasley ignorance." I smirked again, and saw him grin.

"Miss Weasley, thee are as much of Gryffindor's student as mine. May I inquire as to how exactly thee got placed in that mockery of a man's house?" I grimaced, recalling my Sorting Hat experience.

"I was…placed there by default. Tom wished for me to remain innocuous, so that meant not getting placed in your magnificent house, my lord." He nodded, a slightly wistful expression coming onto his alabaster face. He didn't even flinch at my slight bout of ass-kissing; I presumed that it was because he believed it was true. Hell, I believed it was true, too.

"Ah, Tom…he was such a wonderful boy, even if he was a half blood. It is such a shame that he allowed his pureblooded bigotry go to the extremes." I nodded woefully. Tom had truly been brilliant, but he had allowed tradition to twist until it was a corrupted cult following. It he had only remained on the path for knowledge, not world dominance…

"My lord, as much as Weasley—" Parkinson started.

"_Miss_ Weasley, Miss Parkinson. She is a knowledgeable witch, and she is as good as any Slytherin. You will address her as such." Parkinson sneered, but complied.

"_Miss_ Weasley, then, is in danger the more we stay to talk. You see, my lord, she is a fugitive from her house, of sorts. I am allowing her to stay in my room, with your leave, of course." Slytherin nodded sharply.

"Of course. A fugitive, thou say? Whatever for?" I shook my head.

"I am sorry, my lord, but I do not wish to disclose too many details." He stared at me hard, as if when he stared at me long enough the event would be written on my forehead. Finally, he spoke.

"Understandable, Miss Weasley. Thee may enter. Miss Parkinson, I will be visiting my wife. Good day." With this, he slipped out of his frame. I turned to find Parkinson standing before a small tunnel. She must have spoken the password while Slytherin slipped away. She stepped into the tunnel, and I followed. Once inside it, I found that it was actually much roomier than I had initially assumed. It was certainly much larger and more comfortable than the Gryffindor Tower portrait hole. Parkinson halted me almost as soon as we had started walking, though. I heard the distant murmur of her voice, before a barrier before us dissipated. I hadn't noticed it until it was gone.

"Weasley, let me give you a warning," her voice crept out of the darkness. "My house loathes your house and your family. You are not going to be safe if you wander out of my room. Do you understand?" I nodded, before realizing she couldn't see me.

"Yes." I said. Of course I understood; how could I not? The same went for my family and Gryffindors against Slytherin. It was just common knowledge. I myself was completely amazed at the depth of kindness that the three I had just recently met were showing me. I was still partially waiting to wake up from this surreal dream.

A hand grabbed my wrist, and tugged me forward. Light instantly struck my eyes, and I lowered my lids reflexively. I then realized that the light wasn't even that bright, not getting much over a dim haze that barely illuminated the room. The hazy atmosphere probably could be blamed on the sweet smelling smoke that I instantly recognized: Infinity.

It was a drug that only the most powerful of witches and wizards could ever make, the recipe a hidden secret that took a blood offering to even _open _the book it was contained in. And then from there, you had to take the blood of a virgin that _wasn't _yourself and drip it on the correct page, which if you dripped it onto the wrong page could prove catastrophic. For in that book, each page held a dark spell or potion that took its own little set of requirements to even read. And then even _that _was written in the Ancient Tongue. The recipe had been built off the natural drug marijuana that many muggles got high off of, but had been advanced to the point that it was like taking an acid trip and being as high as a kite, without the bad physical affects and mind-crumbling ingredients.

I had only had it once, and it had taken me ages to make, mainly because the ingredients had cost so much that I had to either steal them, which I did for the most part, or save up my meager allowance to buy one of the ingredients. If I remembered correctly, I spent most of my third and fourth years slowly stealing the ingredients from Snape's stores and from various other shady places in Knockturn Alley. With a small smirk I remembered that I had even intercepted a few owls bearing "gifts" for the Slytherins, especially Parkinson, Malfoy, and Zabini. I bet that didn't even know who _had _been stealing their forbidden potion ingredients, either…but it sure as hell had been worth it.

Biting back a snigger, I turned back to my survey of their common room. Despite the haze that made me vaguely think of Trelawney's stifling tower room—well, maybe the only thing that reminded me was the smoke that hung in the air—the common room was almost exactly what I had pictured a Slytherin room to look like. Not exactly, per se, but the underlying styles were what made me think of Slytherin. Dark blacks, greens, and silvers was the color scheme; the couches and seats being in black and made out of an indeterminable fabric, the walls a dark green, and the floor a black marble shot through with veins of silver.

There was a fireplace off to my right, and another room off to my left that seemed to sink into the shadows. Most of the smoke was coming from a small circle of students that were lying around on a semi-circle of black couches, lazily watching us where we stood. There were no windows, which was understandable due to the fact that the whole house was underground. The whole common room just screamed elegance, class, and money. Two hallways were in front of me, and I glanced at Parkinson for directions. She took her cue and started walking for the hallway off to the right.

"You have to be careful, since only Blaise's room has a password installed on it. Mine doesn't have a password, but it _does _have shields up that will only let certain people inside, and those certain people aren't going to hurt you. I'll have to key you into the wards, but I don't really expect you to be coming here alone," she explained as she walked.

"Harper! Smoke any more of that shit and you're going to be so fucked up you're going to think you're a girl!" she called to the corner of smoke. I heard muffled laughter, before a head was vaguely visible from the smoke. The head was a tousled chestnut, and it squinted at us.

"Pansy, why are you bringing blood children in here? You know Draco and Blaise will be pissed," he slurred out, pointing a finger at her. I watched, amused, as he looked at his outstretched finger in shock, as if he didn't even realize what it was. Parkinson chuckled.

"Pierce, I haven't brought a blood child in here since fourth year. This one here," she jerked her thumb at me, a wicked grin coming onto her face, "is a _ghost_." Even from this distance I saw his eyes go wide.

"A _ghost_? Keep it away from me, Pans!" he gasped, scrambling back onto someone's lap. Laughter drifted out of the smoke. Parkinson chucked, before starting back for the hallway. I caught up with her quickly.

"He's deathly superstitious. Blood children that are brought back as ghosts scare the shit out of him." I knew exactly what blood children were, and essentially they were pureblooded sources of blood. They were willing give their blood up for the more powerful pureblooded families, choosing to supply their blood for the pursuit of knowledge. They typically were third or fourth children and wore blood colored clothes, so I could understand how he thought I looked like a blood child while in an Infinity-induced high. My long hair probably looked like a shirt to him.

Parkinson had led me to a door, which she opened and led me inside. As soon as I was in, she closed the door behind me. I looked around the room; it was very similar to Malfoy's, if a bit smaller and a bit more feminine. There were definitely a few more dark reds scattered about. Her room was impeccable, though; this was something that I was slightly amazed out. I wasn't even a neat freak, but I tended to keep my room cleaned and spotless, out of lack of anything important to do. But in Slytherin, all I had seen was perfectly groomed rooms. I was beginning to suspect that they had an arsenal of house elves hidden somewhere, which wasn't too unlikely.

Parkinson walked over to a bookshelf, selecting one carelessly before tossing it to me. I glanced at the title, and was instantly enraptured; I held in my hands _A Taste of Hell_, one of the rarest books in existence. The author, who was unknown, had handwritten each book, and there were only thirteen known copies had ever been made, and seven of them were lost. Three were in the Department of Mysteries, and the other three were said to belong to the three great families: Malfoy, Zabini, and Parkinson.

I was flabbergasted that _Parkinson_, of all people, would have it in her _rooms_, sitting there for anyone to read. Well, anyone that had leave to come into her room. I'd have thought that it would be locked up in some safe somewhere in her home. I raised stunned eyes up to her smirking violet ones.

"Are you _serious_?" I asked. Her smirk widened.

"Shut your mouth, Weasley. You'll catch flies. And of course I'm serious; I'll probably have to wash the poorness of it when you're done with it, but I'd rather you have something to do than you tearing apart my room looking for something to do." I nodded, subconsciously sitting on her bed as I gazed at the curling words.

"Pure blood, right?" I asked her, looking at my hand and staring at the fascinating blue veins. A knife plopped down on the bed beside me, presumably tossed by Parkinson.

"Have fun, little lion. I'm going to go find us some food. You've been keyed into the wards, so you could leave, but I doubt you'd make it back. Pierce and his friends are probably the only ones wasted this morning, and I doubt my housemates will take it well to finding you in here." I nodded, hearing the door open and close, before taking the knife and slicing my palm open. The blood didn't come that quickly, but then the cut filled slowly with the ruby liquid, and I pressed my palm to the cover of the book. I then watched with baited breath as the book sprung opened, disregarding my bleeding hand.

Just as the pages started to fill with bloody letters written in the Ancient Tongue, I heard the door close, missing the opening sound of it. Curious, I glanced up; Parkinson couldn't be back so quick, could she?

It was to my immense surprise that I found myself looking at a wand that was inches away from my nose. I trailed my eyes upwards until they met a vibrant green that reminded me of the color of grass, and softly curling blonde hair that disappeared from view behind his shoulders. The look the boy was giving me was murderous, though.

"Enjoying your stay in Slytherin, little lion?"

* * *

As Pansy walked through the halls and back towards Draco's room, she dubbed this day as one of the strangest days of her life. After all, how many days had she spent actually being _nice _to a Weasley? And one that was Potter's little girlfriend, no less? Well, _that _was not by choice, she knew now. She bared her teeth angrily in a quiet snarl as she imagined all the various things that she would have _loved _to do to Potter. That little shit didn't know what was coming.

The snarl fell off her face in favor for a look of mildly stunned wonderment as she shook her head. Why in Tartarus had she allowed Weasley to touch one of her families' most treasured possessions? Hell, she had given the girl leave to _read _it! What was wrong with her? She was tempted to run all the way back down to her room and curse the shit out of Weasley, but thought better of it. She might have been a Slytherin, but she was still human, and that girl needed a little bit of kindness in her life.

Pansy murmured the password to Draco's room and waited as the stones peeled away and let her step through. She couldn't hear any sounds of furious fucking, for which she was grateful for. She loved the two men more than anything, but after walking in on them a few times, it got old. She didn't mind, really, but it was just a stark contrast to how well in love they were with each other, and how _her _ideal mate just wasn't showing any signs at all.

She stifled the sigh that would have given her unrequited love away, and instead looked towards Draco and Blaise. Surprisingly, they weren't shagging, snogging, or any other sexually-related word that started with the letter "s." Instead, they were talking quietly in Italian, entwined around each other with looks of hatred pasted on each of their faces. She walked to the bed and sat down beside them. Even thought they had stopped talking, she still heard the hum of voices, and looked up to find the portrait of a beautiful woman talking to an equally beautiful man. She grinned, nodding in acknowledgment to Salazar, knowing that he was getting the whole story from his wife. It was obvious, because he looked more angry than she'd ever seen him.

"Did you settle her in?" was Blaise's first question. Pansy nodded in amusement. They had shown a fierce protectiveness for anyone that was subjected to abuse, born out of their love for Pansy. She had seen this only once before, and was with a young girl who had been beaten by both of her parents. Sadly, the girl had died, but so had the parents, due to "unusual" circumstances. Pansy had always been particularly happy with how their wet blood had looked smeared across the expensive white Egyptian cotton couch.

"Of course. She's reading _A Taste of Hell_ as we speak." They both looked surprise at her easy acceptance of Weasley, but then brushed it off, probably counting it down as her pity for the girl.

"We're trying to figure out ways to get to Potter without being sent to Azkaban," Draco said with a smirk. Pansy scowled vindictively.

"Any luck?"

"Hardly any," Blaise said with a glare. "We've already got the odds against us with us being Slytherins, and anything Weasley might say is only going to get put down as something she says for attention. I'm pretty sure Potter's got her whole family around his pinky finger." Pansy frowned thoughtfully, flopping back onto the bed so she could gaze at the ceiling.

"I want to talk to Peeves. He'll definitely be up for some Potter hunting," she suggested. "But he's only going to go so far."

"We need to talk to the Bloody Baron, then, too, so he'll allow Peeves to have unrestrained access of Potter," Draco added.

"Look, I don't think we should do too much," Blaise said with a disappointed look at the thought he was just about to voice. "As much as I'd love to curse Potter until he's a bloody smear on the bottom of my shoe, I don't think Weasley'd appreciate it. Sure, she's going to be plenty grateful for us helping her out, but I don't think that she's going to want us to fight her battles."

"She proud, that's for sure. Unless she asks us first, I think we should just see how things pan out. But if it gets too bad…" Draco trailed off, allowing the silence to fill with their violent thoughts on exactly what _would _happen if he hurt Weasley any more.

"I agree, even though I hate it." Pansy said grudgingly and standing up. "I'm going to go grab her some food. She's probably starved. If you two figure out any other ways we can get to Potter without it seeming like we're the ones that are doing it, be sure to let me know." They nodded in compliance, their thoughts only half on her words because they were already busy doing what she had asked. Smiling at the two men, Pansy turned and headed back into the halls, this time going to the kitchens.

_Plotting the downfall of Potter all because of a Weasley…_she thought to herself wryly. _This is going to be one hell of a day._

* * *

A/N: I give you all leave to mercilessly rip out my throat. ((buries head in sand)) I'm terribly sorry for getting this out so late. As an added bonus, it's nearly 500 words more than the last chapter. Plus, I actually had someone slightly beta-read this one, and I reread it myself. So I encourage you to try and find typos.

Note: that spell that Salazar "invented" is a random word. I made it. Not real. Well, not as if the other spells are real or anything...

And all that thee and thous are totally thrown in for the hell of it by me. I probably got them wrong.

Oh, the reason for why this is so late: this week was the last week of nanowrimo. I won! So, I now pooped this out in a few hours right after typing up nearly six thou last night.

Review responses as usual are on my author page. I've got the next chapter roughly planned out, so it'll be out soonish. Be free to email or message me a bitch slap if I'm taking too long. Also, please take the time to read my questions on my author page. For the most part they help me with my writing, because I'm essentially writing this to please you, and my stupid muse that decided to go mental.

And holy shit, it's not even 4:30 in the afternoon and the sun's already set. o.O

See you soon!

-Rapture


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Six

My first reaction was to shut the book, holding it to my chest protectively as I stared into those impossibly green eyes. While I did this, I stealthily maneuvered my hand so it slipped into my pocket, grabbing my wand. He had taken a step forward when I had moved before stopping when he realized that all it looked like I was doing was protecting the book. I didn't want to give him a chance to attack me, so I assumed that he wouldn't fire any curses at me until he had a clean shot. I wasn't planning on letting him attack me, either, but I didn't want to attack him until I had given him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, all he had done so far was threaten me.

"Do you need me to ask again?" he asked me in a calm voice. I kept my face expressionless; obviously this guy wouldn't mind casting an Unforgivable on me. I wouldn't hesitate to use one on him, either, but the only advantage I had was that he hadn't seen me grab my wand. I knew how to do wandless magic, but I didn't really want to attack him just yet.

"No, not really," I said, angling my wand slowly so it pointed towards him.

"Then answer," he said coldly. His identity finally clicked in my mind: Theodore Nott. In a school that had roughly two hundred and eighty students, most people had at least a dim knowledge of who was who, and Nott was in the age group and house that people paid the most attention to. His age group was most focused upon because the seventh years had the most gossip flying around them, courtesy of jealous younger students, and his house because people made sure to find out who in Slytherin were the ones to stay away from. Nott hung around with Parkinson, Malfoy, and Zabini, and because of the aura of pure darkness that they seemed to exude, they were at the top of the list of people to stay away from.

The whole group of Slytherins that Nott hung out with typically were pretty quiet. They minded their own business, for the most part, and the only situation where they _did _actively interact with other students was to terrorize the Golden Trio, and I _certainly _didn't have a problem with _that_. But I didn't recall, in all of my six years at Hogwarts, every hearing a single word from the boy. If the Slytherins were considered quiet, then you could probably consider Nott a mute.

I jumped when he tilted his wand minutely to the right and fired a jet of red light that made something explode behind me, without saying a word. I felt my eyes widen in shock; he was a much better wizard than I had originally given him credit for if he could make something blow up without saying anything. With his wand trained on me once again, we stared down at each other over a roughly foot long piece of wood, his face angelic all but his eyes, which were filled with the deadly promise of pain if I didn't answer his question _immediately_.

"Next time, I won't make any effort to avoid your vital organs," he said lowly, causing me to want to either curse him or run. I just had to figure out how to explain to him exactly what I was doing in his friend's room, reading her family's most treasured possession…

"Look, how do you think I got in here?" I asked reasonably. He jabbed his wand against the book in the spot where my heart would be, making me glower indignantly. The death glare he sent my way, though, was far more experienced and threatening than mine could ever get.

"_I'm_ asking the questions here, Gryffindor," he hissed. "But let us continue on that tangent. If you knew what book that was, how to get into it, and what kind of spells it contains, wouldn't it be a piece of cake for you to tear through the few wards that surround this room?" I had to admit, I could see where he was coming from. Hell, if I had been in his position, I would have acted the same way. I probably wouldn't have even given the intruder the benefit of the doubt; their ass would have been cursed before they could have said "holy mother of Circe!"

"Well…it_ does _look bad." I ignored his snort of derision, continuing on. "But Parkinson invited me in here." This time a chuckle escaped his cool façade, before it was wiped off his face.

"Wrong answer. Try again," he said. I glared at him.

"That's the truth. Do you want to go steal some Veritaserum from Snape so I can prove it?" He glowered at me.

"No, I don't. And since you obviously don't have a good enough reason to be here…" I saw his hand tighten on his wand, so I flew into action. The first thing I did was throw the book behind me and onto the pillows, out of harm's way. While I was doing that, I simultaneously rolled off the bed and onto the ground, pulling my wand out in the process. I heard and smelt the burnt fabric from where I had just been, so I pointed my wand in his vague direction, the spell forming in my mind effortlessly as I slashed my wand.

Purple flames jetted out of my wand, I glanced behind me to see if my curse had hit Nott. He wasn't there, so I assumed that he had dodged it. The curse wasn't even mine; it was Dolohov's curse, a Death Eater that had been killed a few years ago.

I had learned his curse in a particular instant when we had been ambushing a group of Death Eaters, and they had been about to torture a few muggles. Dolohov had taken his sweet time in getting around to torturing them, choosing instead to fill them in on _exactly _how he was going to torture them, and how it would work. The curse demonstration was extremely informative, and I had practiced it myself on him. It worked fine, that was for sure, if I was to go by how he had screamed in agony.

"_Deprimo!_" I heard whispered savagely from my left, and I instantly thought_ Protego horribilis,_ absorbing the spell. I quickly followed up with a roll, and then, catching sight of his black-clad figure, I whispered _Silencio_, preventing him from speaking his spells, and forced to concentrate and use wordless magic.

I heard a growl of frustration, and I rolled again, seeing the bright red light miss me by inches as I threw myself upwards, pointing my wand at him. I opened my mouth, about to say my curse, before I felt my tongue hit the roof of my mouth as a blue jet hit me squarely in the chest. I glowered, moving to the left slowly, keeping him in my view, as I realized he had preformed the _Langlock_ curse on me.

_Obscuro_ was the next thing I thought, effectively causing a blindfold over his eyes, and when I raised my wand to do another curse, I had to jump out of the way of a particularly nasty green shade of light that came from his wand. I swore in my head; I had lost the advantage now, since his blindfold was cast upon the floor.

_Sectumsempra_ caused a huge gash to appear on his chest, making him grimace and then shoot a violently red jet of light that hit me. I wanted to scream but couldn't as the pain of Nott's _Crucio _enveloped me, making me writhe on the floor until he had stopped it. Instantly, I thought _Geminio_, and then rolled away from him as I saw about five more copies of me do the same. I turned to him and thought a harsh _Incarcerous _on him in an attempt to stop his movements, which he blocked.

He then thought another spell that caused me to flash red while my clones remained the same colors. I swore, diving into a roll and away from the purple jet of light that he cast and dissipating the useless clones at the same time.

When I stood, we panted, glaring at each other. It was obvious that we weren't really getting anywhere, but neither of us wanted to back down. After all, we both had our pride to keep in check. I had cast_ Sectumsempra _on him, and he had cast _Crucio _on me. We both felt the need to get even, and get even badly. A slightly upraised wand at my side was the only movement I did, before thinking furiously _Duro_, making him dive into a crouch on the floor and out of the direction of the stone curse.

I was starting to feel the strain on my mind from all the wordless spells I had been casting. I had cast quite a lot, and all of them powerful Dark magic spells, but I hadn't ever cast that many in such a short amount of time. It was amazing I had gotten so far as it was.

Evidently he didn't feel the same, as a bolt of red light flew at me again. I tried to throw up a _Protego_, but was too late; the spell hit me, a spell that I recognized instantly by the blinding pain and because it had just had it cast on me the night before. I gripped my wand tightly, hoping not to lose my grip on it from the blood that flowed down my arm and chest. That one had hurt much worse than what Potter had done last night. I definitely had to give Nott credit. He was a much better wizard than most at this school.

I was panting and trembling, my eyes locked onto Nott's body, looking for any kind of movement. Fortunately, he looked just as weary and as blood soaked as I was; even from here, I could see the blood that soaked his shirt and pants into a dark red tint. I myself could feel the dully-aching gashes on the right side of my chest and my right arm, and the warmth of the blood as it slowly crept down my body. When he didn't immediately make any move to attack me, I hesitantly moved my eyes further up his body and met his brilliantly green eyes.

For a few long moments, the only thing we did was stare at each other, hoping that the other would relent and either attack or look away. In the end, it was Nott; he lowered his wand while looking at me straight in the eyes, challenging me to say something. Of course, I couldn't; after all, I had been langlocked, and he had been silenced. I raised my wand again, causing him to jerk his up and prepare to block it, but I shook my head. Instead, I thought the simple incantation that would allow me to trace words through the air in a spidery blood colored scrawl.

_Truce?_ I wrote out. He raised his wand, causing me to also tense, which made him smirk before he did the same thing.

_You're a damn good witch, Weasley, _he said as a way of truce. I grinned, stepping closer.

_And you're a bloody good wizard, Nott, _I acknowledged and mimicked. _Willing to put aside a few differences and heal me? _He smirked.

_As long as you heal me, too. _I wouldn't have a problem with that. Stepping close enough to him that I could touch him, I waved my wand vaguely and thought _Finite Incantatem, _removing the _Silencio_ that was on him. He did the same to me, which enabled me to talk. I frowned at his blood soaked clothes; you couldn't see any of the wounds with all that fabric on it. It would need to come off.

"Take it off," I told him, looking up to his eyes to let him know I was _not _saying it as a come-on. This time the smirk was almost like a leer. I scowled at him.

"As long as you do too, little lion," he purred to me as he sensually dragged his fingers down his chest gently to the edge of his shirt, before starting to lift. The smirk instantly fell off his face and it became emotionless as he peeled his shirt father upwards, revealing the bleeding gashes. I could tell that it was obviously hurting him from the way the shirt seemed to stick to his skin and only pull off painfully after he had applied extra force to it. I winced at the thought of my own pain that was going to happen when I would start to take my shirt off. After all, we both were wearing skin tight shirts, so it would probably hurt just as much as it was hurting him.

Once the shirt was in a discarded pile of wet silk on the floor, I looked closely at his chest. Yeah, I had _definitely _torn him up a bit. The blood gleamed dully in the faint light, creating an even greater contrast between the vermillion liquid and the snowy skin. The gashes themselves were still oozing blood slowly, some of them even as much as an inch deep. He looked as if some kind of huge beast with even bigger claws had taken a swing at his chest. I tried finding where the actual wounds were, and I could see some, but it was just too hard to see with all the blood everywhere. The blood would have to go.

"_Aguamenti,_" I murmured, directing the lightly flowing water over his chest. He hissed, but that was the only sign that he felt anything. That, and the tensed muscles that I could so starkly see. It took a bit to get the blood off, because I didn't want to hurt him too badly, and in that time I realized that his curses has also taken a toll on my body. My whole body was trembling, and the wounds on my chest and my arm were just now starting to burn sharply. I gave the tiniest of winces, and then casually transferred my wand to my left hand. I didn't need him thinking I had any weaknesses.

Once all his wounds were cleaned, I hastened to start the actual healing process. I was usually a really good healer, have to deal with my own injuries all these years, so it only took a few moments to softly sing out the enchantment. Typically the healing spell for_ Sectumsempra _wasn't sung, but I had found that when I sung it, it worked better. Once he was all healed up, I took a step back.

"Care to sing me to sleep, Weasley?" Nott taunted. I shot him an irritated scowl, before beginning to pull of my shirt. I had been right; it _did _hurt. I grimaced as I felt the fabric sticking to my skin, and I knew exactly where each of the wounds were because it hurt even worse when I pulled the shirt up over it.

My right arm protested about halfway through, and I had to let it go limp and struggle to pull the shirt off with only my left hand, my wand having been pocketed. Nott looked on impassively; he probably knew that it was best for him to just let me get the shirt off myself. Either that, or he just didn't even think about helping me. I bet it was a bit of both. I slung the shirt away from me, shooting it a disgusted glare as it plopped to the floor. The bloody thing was_ much _more trouble than it was worth.

My bra was only on by a single bit of fabric, the rest of it being shredded. Mentally shrugging at myself, I ripped the rest of it off me. Nott had probably seen more than his share of breasts, and if not, he was mature enough to not do or say anything. At least, I was banking on this, and on the Slytherin sense of honor that sometimes showed when it came to things like this.

The barely whispered _Aguamenti _was the only warning I had before the water hit me, sinking into each individual slice and creating a tiny river of pain each time it did so. The hiss slipped out from between my clenched teeth, and that was the only sound I made as I curled my left hand into a fist, digging my nails into the pads of my palm there, trying to distract myself with the pain there instead of concentrating on the pain I found on my chest and arm.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on my breathing, my Transfiguration homework, my _mum_, anything to get my mind off the pain. I delighted slightly in the mixed senses I was getting; on the one hand, the water pouring out of Nott's wand was icy cold, and on the other, the wounds on my chest and arm were burning hot. The contrast was delicious, and I was pretty sure that if it had been only slightly less painful, the feeling would have been interesting to examine. As it was, though, it was hard enough to _not _make any obvious movement or sound that would give away the fact that I was in pain.

Eventually the water stopped, and just as quickly, the lightly sung spell was falling out of Nott's lips. When the pain was gone enough for me to do anything, I opened my eyes and smirked at him while I finished healing me.

"Care to sing me to sleep, Nott?" I mocked. He shot me an amused look before turning around, and heading towards a door. He opened it and disappeared into it; I guessed that it was a closet. He came back out a few moments later, fully clothed once again, and tossed me a bra and another shirt. I cast a quick drying spell on myself before strapping myself into the bra.

After that was done, I stopped, massaging my right arm where the gashes used to be. The muscles were cramping from the rapid healing that they had just undergone, and it wasn't exactly the most pleasant feeling in the world. Once I was sure my arm wasn't about to go into epileptic fits, I pulled the shirt on. This time it was a dark burgundy red, bordering on being blood colored. I shot him an exasperated look where he stood casually leaning up against the wall, to which he responded with an innocent visage. I stared at the transformation; had I not known that it was a complete fake, I wouldn't have known the difference.

"I thought it would suit you," he explained. I snorted; even _this _color wasn't even close to being pure Gryffindor red. Not that I was complaining or anything; more and more I was finding that I didn't really like the whole atmosphere of Gryffindor.

"So now are you going to let me explain?" I asked in a light voice, as if we were talking about the weather and it had no consequence, examining the blood underneath my nails. I scowled; I was going to have to do some _serious _scrubbing to get _that _out.

"You can if you want to," he said breezily. "But if you know all those spells, then I bet Pansy had a reason for you being in here. Besides, you were wearing her shirt." I stared at him in slight shock.

"Do you mean that we just ripped each other apart for the hell of it?" I asked incredulously. He cocked his head to the side, as if considering it, before nodding lazily.

"Yes, I guess that could sum it up," he said cheerfully. He then pushed himself off the wall and walked towards me with a smirk. "Now that we're done with that, how about we get back to _A Taste of Hell_? I haven't read that book in _ages_." I was completely thrown off balance with the Slytherin; he definitely was full of surprises. But, if he was offering to help me navigate the book…I bounded towards the bed, landing in the middle and snagging the book. I grinned up at him; two could play the spontaneous game.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

--

A/N: That fight scene was so freakin' unplanned. I think I was going to have them exchange a bit of repartee, or something like that, and then they _had _to go and get all macho on me. I really like Nott. :D

Notes: Those were all _real _spells, off the Wikipedia article. I'm sorry if the fight scene was stiff. Because I thought it seemed stiff and two-d. I didn't like it. :O

I think there actually ARE two hundred and eighty kids in Hogwarts. My math: 5 (the boys in Potter's year, and Gryffindor) x 2 (to account for the girls) x 7 (for all seven years) x 4 (for all four houses). Multiply all that and you get 280. Yay for my math skillz!

I realized that something cool about Veritaserum. In vino veritas is Latin for "in wine there is truth," and veritas is truth. Veritas, VERITASerum...I'm so awesome.

I also planned this chapter to be longer, before I realized that since the bloody fight scene thing dragged out so long, I might as well just split it into two chapters. So, the next chapter is already halfway written, in my mind.

Reviews are in my profile. I feel the need to press ENTER after I finish each thought. And do you know how cool it would be if everyone who read this, reviewed? That'd be beyond cool. I'd probably orgasm.

-Rapture


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Seven

Pansy's face was twisted into a permanent sneer as she navigated her way quickly through the halls Well, maybe not navigated; all the students naturally moved out of her path for fear of what would happen if they_ did _get caught in her way, so she had no need to weave through the crowds as most students did. Behind her, silently and diligently, a little house elf floated a veritable feast on a tray nearly five times bigger than it, keeping pace with Pansy's quick stride.

She shot a particularly nasty sneer at Granger as she passed the bushy haired brown-noser, before smirking haughtily at the Gryffindor's outrage upon seeing the house elf trailing after her. But soon enough, Pansy was turning around the corner with a swish of her robes that would have made Snape proud.

Descending into the depths of the school, Pansy only halted right before the entrance to Slytherin, glancing at the portrait of Salazar before continuing into the Slytherin common room. The long-dead man wasn't in his frame, so that meant that his wife was still trying to calm him down from her frame in Draco's room. _Potter's going to be fucked_, Pansy thought with a grin, _when the whole entire castle turns against the Boy Who Wouldn't Die. _

She was intercepted halfway through the common room by Pierce Harper, again. He wasn't stumbling from the force of Infinity, but that was very misleading to someone who didn't know the Slytherin. After all, the majority of purebloods in Slytherin had had it pounded into them, sometimes literally, the importance of not showing weaknesses. Only when Pierce would be seconds away from passing out would he finally lose his control.

"Pansy," he said formally, before stifling a giggle over the apparent hilarity of him saying her name. "What did you do with your blood child?" Pansy shrugged elegantly, hiding her impatience easily. She didn't fully trust Weasley at all, not yet. And leaving her alone to have free roam of her own room…that was just giving Weasley leave to do whatever the hell she wanted.

"I don't know. She's probably gone to chat up the Bloody Baron." Pierce wrinkled his nose into a look of disgust, and a much more hidden one of fear. Slytherins knew how to hide their fears, as well.

"Pans, I know you like using pure blood, especially since it works so well in your Dream Walking potions, but why'd you have to bring one in here?" His voice was practically a whine, even though it had hardly lost its cultured edge. Dream Walking was something she did often; she had a knack for it, that was for sure. One quick trip when she was seven had sealed her fate—especially since she had Walked into Morpheus' mind. Morpheus was…well, what he wasn't was human. Years ago, muggles had even worshipped him for being the god of dreams. He was the greatest Dream Walker to live, and he no longer needed to potion to do it. And when a seven year old Pansy had stumbled into his dreams…

It was considered impossible to do so, since Morpheus had long ago fallen into an eternal sleep, and his whereabouts where unknown. He had stopped taking an interest in the way the world was going, and had just decided to go to sleep, since Death was refusing to grant him release. But once she had made it into his mind…he had been surprised, to say the least, that such a young child was able to do what countless other wizards and witches had attempted to do for years—and she had done it _without _the potion.

He had then, for the first time in centuries, taken her on as his apprentice, and she had become the greatest Dream Walker of the age, even if it was unacknowledged; the Ministry of Magic refused to notice that such a borderline magic was happening in one of their most prestigious schools. For, after all, Dream Walking was considered a Dark Magic, a forbidden magic.

Pansy didn't really give a dog's ass about what the Ministry thought, so she just continued to Walk and learn until she was a Black Dream Walker; kind of like the Dark and Light mages, the Dream Walkers had a system to measure what kind of Walker the person was. And if the person was Black…well, that meant you were as dark as they'd come. The only other Dream Walkers that the Ministry knew of were all White Walkers, because if the Ministry knew that there was even a Grey Walker, well…it was easy to say that the Walker wouldn't be Grey any longer, and they wouldn't be alive to even Walk anymore at all.

"It was necessary, Pierce," she responded, before stepping around him nimbly. She watched him try to follow her quick movement with his eyes, but end up making it to her new position much slower than he normally would have.

"Okay, Pans. I think I'm going to go to sleep, now." She smiled, biting down on the urge to either make a sharp comment about it only being ten in the morning or mess with him completely while he was in this inebriated state. Instead, she stepped around him, continuing on to her room.

Pansy slowed when she was only a few feet away from her room, hearing voices within. Who was in there? She knew that Weasley was in there, but who was she talking to? She leaned closer, planning on listening in on whoever's conversation that was taking place in her room.

"Harder, Nott, _harder_!" Pansy felt her eyebrows crawl up her face and her mouth fall open in shock. As if _that _wasn't an indicator of what the hell was going on, _especially _the way that that stupid Weasley slag was gasping for breath.

"I'm_ going_, harder, Weasley! This whip's not exactly the greatest tool for what we're doing!" Theodore, _Theodore Nott_, ground out right afterwards, his voice harsh as if he was clenching his teeth.

"Don't twist them like that!" Weasley cried right afterwards, her voice cracking in the middle of her sentence. Pansy snarled ferally, reaching for her wand mindlessly as she was forced to listen to even_ more _of their conversation.

"I can twist them whichever way I _want_!" Theodore growled. "They're _mine_!"

"Fine, just hurry the fuck up before Parkinson gets back here," Weasley panted, and Pansy had heard enough. She blasted the door open, the resulting bang causing silence to reign for a brief moment as she took in the scene.

Squalling silently was a large toddler type thing, with green sprouts forming out of his head and firmly grasped in Theodore's hand. The whip was lying discarded on the floor, and his other hand was holding tightly to the toddler-thing's legs, twisting them to the side and making its mouth open even wider, even though the screech was silent. Clods of dirt littered the floor, while a dirty looking Weasley looked up guiltily from where she was also holding onto a bawling toddler-thing, twisting its legs as well. Underneath each of their toddlers were buckets about halfway filled with greenish yellow pus, and overturned on the floor were large flower pots.

"Oh," Pansy said, her outstretched arm drooping slightly. Theodore blinked, while Weasley used her arm to wipe the sweat off her face, inadvertently leaving a large streak of dirt there.

"Pansy, what the fuck are you doing?" Theodore asked in a slightly weary voice, holding the struggling toddler-thing farther away from his body in disgust.

"I…well…" She was at a loss for words, something that rarely happened. But she pulled herself together quickly; best to not show weakness in front of Weasley.

"Theodore, what possessed you to harvest Mandrake pus in my room?" she asked civilly, pointing to an area free of dirt for the house elf to put the food. Weasley gave a twitch as her Mandrake made a particularly violent twist, causing her to twist on its limbs with equal violence. As she twisted, the tears that came out of its eyes while it screeched were caught in the bucket beneath, obviously satisfying Weasley, if Pansy was to go by her triumphant smirk. Pansy also noted, with a bit of rage, that Weasley's wand was sticking out from between her breasts, as if the girl hadn't had any other place to put it. And was she wearing a new shirt…?

"Well, Weasley here felt the desire for some Mandrake pus, so she could make a bit of this Healing Draught, and I didn't have any on hand, and I knew you've been out for ages…and since your room was the best protected, we decided to harvest it in here," he told her casually, twisting with even more violence than Weasley had displayed on his Mandrake. He glanced at his amount of pus, before looking at Weasley.

"I'd say we've got a fair amount, Weasley," he said, reaching for the half-filled flower pot and jamming the Mandrake into it. He pulled his wand out, waving it and sending about half of the clods of dirt into his bucket. Next to him, Weasley did the same, scowling at the Mandrake as it refused to go in peacefully. Once it was in, they both murmured _Finite incantatem_, giving the Mandrakes back their power to scream. Weasley looked towards Theodore for direction on what to do with her bucket of pus.

"Let's just seal these for now, since I doubt Pansy's going to want us to be making that potion right now," Theodore told her, and they both repeated the spell that changed the bucket into glass jars with sealed lids. Pansy watched Weasley glance from the tasty looking food, which the house elf had already deposited, and her dirt covered hands, and then back to the food again, repeating the process.

"Bathroom's over there," Pansy finally said, pointing to the correct door.

"Thank you," Weasley murmured gratefully, before she dashed off to the warm water. Once the door was closed behind her, Theodore glanced at her with a wicked smirk, sidling closer.

"So, Pansy…I had no idea that the green giant had rode you so thoroughly." She scowled, hitting him on the arm when he was in reach.

"Shut the hell up, Theodore. It _sounded _like you guys were having a round of hot wild sex, in _my _room, and hoping to finish up before I got back." He grinned as her scowl deepened. "And why is she wearing _another _one of my shirts?" This time, his expression changed to one of innocence as he looked at her with wide eyes.

"Oh, she spilled something on her other shirt."

"And your shirt is changed why…?" He shrugged elegantly.

"I spilled something on my other shirt, too." Pansy's eyes narrowed.

"And just what _was _that something that managed to spill on both of your shirts?"

"Just a bit of blood," he said casually, inspecting the dirt underneath his finger nails. Pansy grimaced, raising her hand to her forehead and rubbing it.

"You didn't…?" she trailed off.

"I did," he confirmed, causing her to groan.

"Theo, it was _Weasley_! You _know _she wouldn't have been able to hold her own in a fight against _you_!" He shook his head.

"Au contraire, dear Pansy, do you not recall when I said that I also had blood on my shirt? She can hold her own against me, and I wasn't going easy either, Pans." Pansy looked mildly shocked at the fact that a Weasley could actually fight a Slytherin and not completely fail at it.

"Are you sure you were fighting the same Weasley?" she asked skeptically. This time, it was his turn to scowl at her.

"Pansy, you yourself gave her the book," he reminded her. "And she knew what to do with it. Isn't that indicative enough that she's at least _somewhat _versed in the Dark Arts?" She shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess so, but it's just so strange to think of a Weasley having anything to do with something that's less than lily white." He nodded in assent, glancing at the closed door.

"That's for sure," he muttered, fingering one of the places where her _Sectumsempra _had sliced him.

"When she's out, go clean your dirty ass," Pansy commanded. He glanced at her from underneath lowered eyelids, a smile twisting onto his face.

"What, you don't like it when I'm dirty?" he purred, stroking down her pale arm and leaving a trail of dirt. Despite the miniscule shudder that Pansy did from this contact, she stepped out of his reach, her composure instantly gathered once again. She knew that not much missed his sharp eyes, especially when it came to her in particular, and if she stayed in close proximity to him when he turned on the charm…well, it definitely wouldn't bode too well.

"Knock it off, Theo," she said sharply, cracking a grin at him anyway. He sighed dramatically.

"Just my luck…you always deny me, Pans. Maybe I'm better off joining Draco and Blaise in the ranks of the terminally gay…" She snorted.

"They aren't gay. They're bi." He nodded contemplatively.

"That idea also has merit…" She snorted, shaking her head sadly.

"You're incorrigible," she muttered, before glancing at the bathroom door. What the hell was she going to do about Weasley?

I was now currently vigorously scrubbing all traces of dirt off of me. I had already gotten most of the larger ones off with my wand, and my clothes were pristine once again, but there was a few smudges that just refused to come off, no matter how much I scrubbed. I sighed wearily, before inhaling the vanilla flavored soap again. Parkinson sure did know how to pick the good soaps. Well, that probably was a given, since she'd already had seventeen years worth of getting the best that money could buy.

But I had noticed when going through her soaps that the only stuff that looked store bought was the stuff that wasn't used. _Oh, so the Slytherin preferred to make her own_, I thought. I also made my own, but for different reasons; it was easier to steal the ingredients or buy the cheaper ones than it was to spend loads of money on stuff I could make myself. And I could make it better, to boot; when I still had a few friends that would talk to me, I used to give them out as Christmas or birthday presents, and they had all squealed appropriately upon receiving my scented shampoos and body soaps.

But I had been in here for a good five minutes, and only just now was the dirt coming off. I scowled grumpily at the few remaining smudges; I scrubbed harder until all that was left was vividly pink skin, and no dirt. Grinning triumphantly, I dried off and then went back into the room, where Parkinson and Nott were both standing rather close to each other. I cleared my throat, hoping that I wasn't interrupting anything. Nott nodded at me, smirking, as he passed me on his way into the bathroom, and Parkinson stared after him with a glare.

She finally turned her gaze to me, jerking her hand to the laid out food. I walked as quickly as I could over to it, trying to not seem desperate for any kind of food. I hadn't eaten in ages, it seemed. And I wasn't completely oblivious to the tension in the air, especially when Parkinson had stormed into the room.

I hadn't thought we'd been doing anything _too _scandalous, but then I had reviewed what she probably would have heard, and I had realized, with a lecherous smirk, that it had seemed to be a _very_ different situation to her. After I was finished with my mini orgasm upon biting into the absolutely fantastic piece of toast, she decided to address me.

"Weasley. What happened before you two decided to harvest Mandrakes?" she said casually, and I realized that Nott probably hadn't told her the full story. I took another bite, talking around the food in my mouth, much to her horror, as I answered.

"He came in right after you left, and didn't believe me when I said that you had brought me in here, so we started fighting." I took another bite of toast, finishing it off and reaching for another.

"And…?"

"And we fought. He wounded me, I wounded him, and eventually we decided to come to a truce. We then healed each other, and he decided to tell me that he had known that you had brought me in here anyway from the beginning," I said, smiling slightly. Nott sure was pretty damn crazy; I had figured that out from his completely opposite reactions to different things that I did.

"And somewhere after that you decided it'd be fun to start a Healing Draught?" she said dryly. I shrugged, reaching for a plate full of bacon to scarf down.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time, and we didn't have anything else to do." She shook her head in amazement.

"Hey, Theodore! I think I've met someone as crazy as you are!" she called out. Nott stuck his head out, revealing a tousled head of blonde hair and a wounded face.

"I'm not crazy, Pans!" he told her in a hurt voice. "I prefer the term 'mentally unstable.'" I snorted while in the middle of chewing some bacon, and the resulting coughing fit nearly killed me while I tried to regain breath. Once I had, I found that Nott was now sitting across from me, eating, while Parkinson was laying on the bed, staring moodily at the ceiling. I finished eating the rest of the food, until I was full, turning to Parkinson again.

"So what do I do now?" I asked.

"We need to get an elf to go get your stuff," she said. Nott nodded, standing up.

"I'll go do that. Pans, you can get her a bed and things set up in here. Weasley, well...I guess you can just add a room onto this one, if you don't want to be spending the nights with Pansy in her bed." I nodded vigorously while Parkinson sat up, a dazzling smile on her face.

"Wonderful idea, Theo!" she exclaimed, causing me to wince.

"Don't do that," I told her. "It's disturbing." She scowled at me.

"Just get moving," she said, starting on conjuring up an extra bed, dresser, and other necessities while Nott walked to the door. I went over to a slightly bare wall, removing my wand from my pocket and moving everything that was in the way to the side so I'd have room. I then started the spell that would add the room onto Parkinson's, feeling content for the first time in years. I could probably get used to this.

* * *

A/N: Ah, horror of horrors! That was loads of third person. Yucko. And what's even more yucko...I'm deathly ill. : ( It's horrrrid. Trust me, don't get sick, people. Wash your hands, brush your teeth, clean your ears, all that good stuff. The pathetic thing is, I'm not even sick during the week. I'm sick over the weekend. Someone up there's out to get me. ((shakes fist at the sky))

I really enjoyed writing that scene where Pansy thinks they're doing the dirty deed. ((grins)) That was fun.

Oh, I edited it in chapter three: When she's getting dressed, I don't mention her wand at all, so I went back and edited it. I seem to have forgotten that.

Morpheus is the Greek God of Dreams. And from last chapter, Circe is an enchantress that turned men into pigs. Good woman.

From the last chapter, too: EVERYONE READ THIS: I do _**NOT **_condone drug usage at all. Er, well, not that stiff, but being addicted is really bad. I've experimented with weed, but that's all, people. Getting addicted is horrid, and it ruins lives. So DON'T DO IT. And I'm completely against anything worse than marijuana. I guess that makes me a hypocrite, but seriously, people. It's BAD.

Oh, and is anyone else getting screwed over by the new features, or is it just me?

Review responses in profile, as per usual.

-A very sick and grody looking Rapture


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Eight

"Rise and shine, Weasley," someone said to me, a bright light shining into my tired eyes. I swore violently, burrowing further under the covers.

"Weasley, I'm not going to play your mother," the voice snapped. I vaguely identified it as a female voice, and then wondered just when the hell my dorm mates had grown some balls. "Either move, or I'll _Crucio _your ass until you _do _get out of bed."

Wait…what? I peeked open my eyes, finding myself faced with violet eyes, a pale face, and a chic bob haircut. _Oh. _No _wonder _she was threatening me. She was as opposite to my dorm mates as darkness was to light. I snorted at the appropriateness of this analogy, rolling over and squinting at Parkinson.

"Gods above, woman, sleep with some clothes on!" she cried, flinging her hands up to cover her face in mock horror. I scowled at her.

"You could have given me some jammies." She scoffed.

"'Jammies?' How old _are _you?" she jeered. "Besides, would you have worn them if I had given them to you?" I smiled ruefully, shaking my head. She smirked triumphantly.

"I rest my case. Now get up. Theo's gone to get us some breakfast, and I've already taken a shower. You need one; I can smell you from over here." Her nose crinkled in disgust at my apparent smell. I grabbed a pillow and chucked it at her, before freezing and realizing what I had just done. _I had just thrown a pillow at _Parkinson_. Gods above, what was the world coming to? _But it didn't seem to phase her as much as it did me, and she just threw it back, biffing me smack in the face before tossing over her shoulder as she walked into the next room; "By the way, you've only got thirty minutes before classes start."

* * *

After I had finished taking the quickest shower in my life, I proceeded to do a headless chicken dance in the search of my clothes, which had disappeared. When all I found was a tiny scrap of cloth that I had filched when I was five because I had thought it a slingshot, I stomped back to Parkinson's side of the room, towel securely clutched to my chest and hair stringy and wet, but brushed. I glared at her from where she was reading a book.

"Where the hell are my clothes?" I demanded. She glanced up, shrugging, before returning to her book.

"I don't know," she answered calmly, as if Gryffindors prancing around in the nude was commonplace. I threw the scrap of cloth at her.

"That's_ all _I could find," I snapped. "And I sure as hell aren't going to go through my classes wearing only a _thong_." She picked it up and put it on the bed beside her, before turning a page.

"That's not my problem," she informed me. Just when I was about to dive at her to strangle her ass, the door banged open, making me reach instead for the wand I had wrapped into a roll in my towel.

"Breakfast has arrived!" Nott declared, flourishing his arms wide. I lowered my wand, amused.

"Sorry to inform you, but you're not my type. I put my cannibalistic habits to rest a few years ago." He snorted in laughter, before stepping out of the way for the house elf that was carrying the food. He seemed to be unconcerned about my lack of clothing, choosing instead to look at Parkinson, and then glance at me.

"Where are your clothes?" he finally asked. I glared.

"I don't _know_. They were gone when I got out of the shower," he looked confused, before smiling gleefully.

"I remember, now. I may have…accidentally thrown them all into the fireplace." Only a small choking noise from the bottom of my throat was heard in the following silence. _All _of my clothes? My whole entire livelihood?

"You had _better _be giving me a refund," I growled, my grip tightening on my wand as I resisted the urge for violence. It seemed to me that around them, I had much more frequent desires to hurt something, or someone.

…I was messed _up_.

"Oh, that's no problem. Next Hogsmeade weekend, I'm taking you shopping," he said, waving his hand as if it was a simple matter. This finally brought Parkinson up from her book, and caused me to stare in shock. I was surprised my jaw didn't hit the ground.

"But that's still a week away," I said, my mind finally catching up. "What am I going to wear in the meantime?" He shrugged.

"You can probably borrow some of Pansy's old stuff. I'm pretty sure that she still has some stuff that she was going to use for rags." That's a pleasant thought. But the sad thing about that was that Parkinson's old "rags" were probably ten times better than my clothes were. Parkinson snorted, before closing the books and heading towards a door that I assumed was her closet, vanishing into it. I turned to Nott, who was watching the house elf lay out all the things. I stepped closer, sitting down and grabbing some of the bacon.

"Muffers is very happy to serve the missus," the house elf said in a squeaky voice, bowing so low that its floppy ears brushed the floor. I didn't comment, choosing instead to eat more bacon, and I watched Nott usher it out of the room quickly. I never had liked the little trolls. Quite disgusting, actually, even if they could perform magic. Kind of like Potter in the aspect. Nott was watching me eat with avid concentration, making me uncomfortable and wanting to fill the silence with useless chatter until he stopped looking at me.

Luckily, though, I didn't have to start babbling about that one time when I was seven and a garden gnome bit my toe, because Parkinson walked back in, her arms full of clothes. She dumped them on the bed, and I half turned, grabbing a piece of toast to snack on, to look at them all.

"Here's the robes…Theo, change the trim on them…" she half mumbled, tossing the black fabric to Nott. I noticed the green and silver trim on it, before turning back to her. She had pulled out a normal black skirt, a white oxford shirt, a black vest, and a green tie. White socks were also lying on the bed.

"You can change into these in the other room. I think we'll leave the tie as it is; it'll serve as a warning." She grinned wickedly, shoving the clothes into my hands as I walked quickly into the other room. I wasn't sure how much time we had left, but it probably wasn't a lot. I dressed quickly, finding the underwear and bra hidden amongst the other clothes, and emerged only a minute later. I had to instantly react, though; shoes were flying at my head. Good thing I _did _have awesome reflexes, or else I probably would have had a bloody nose. I pulled them on as I finished walking back over to them, grabbing some more food as I passed it.

"Here's the robes," Nott said, handing them to me. I pulled them over my head, and then Parkinson immediately shoved the tie down over my head, half strangling me. I shot her a reproachful look, but didn't comment; after all, they were doing so much more for me than I could have ever thought them capable of doing. And now I was wearing no doubt expensive clothes; there were no labels, and the seams were practically invisible. Plus, the fabric of the robes was a rich cotton, my shirt was silk, and the skirt was lined on the inside in velvet. Yeah, it was beyond comfortable, and probably beyond more than I'd ever make.

I stuffed some more food in my face before Parkinson shoved my bag into my arms. I switched it onto my shoulder, before following Parkinson out of the room, whom had followed Nott.

"We're late," Nott informed us from over his shoulder. I swore under my breath; great. As if I didn't need another reason to draw attention to myself.

"Too bad. They're survive," Parkinson retorted. I grinned, struggling to keep up with their longer strides. I had good stamina, but their legs were just longer than mine.

"So, Weasley, we've decided what to do with you between classes," Nott said, slowing down slightly so we could speed walk together.

"Do you know who Logan Vaisey is?" Parkinson asked me. I nodded.

"Sixth year, chaser, and he's been on the team for four years. Semi-decent player, and he's best at the Transylvanian Tackle," I rattled off. I then flushed in embarrassment; I studied all the Quidditch players, but now it made me seem like bloody _Granger_. Parkinson looked at me in surprise.

"Yeah, that's right. I didn't know you were so meticulous when it comes to Quidditch." I nodded, examining the floor as I walked over it.

"Yes, well…know your opponent," I muttered feebly. We were now in the main part of school; my first class was Charms, and then after that I had double Potions. I grimaced; that class was sure to be fun. If I was right, then by now the holy Potter would have already turned the whole Gryffindor house against me. He wouldn't have had to work hard, anyway.

"I'll drop you off at Charms, and then Logan's going to watch you for the rest of the day. If the bastard leaves you alone for a minute, he'll have his hide flayed, so he's going to stick closer than your own shadow," Nott explained. Parkinson turned down a side corridor, leaving with a curt nod.

"I don't have all my classes with him."

"Tough luck. He's going to stay with you, unless he assigns someone else to. He was the only one left in the common room when Pansy woke this morning; she overslept." I grinned, before feeling it slide off my face quickly. Today was going to be nerve wracking, that was for sure.

"And lunch?"

"Logan'll take you to me or Pansy, and then we'll take you down to the kitchens to grab some food." I nodded. It seemed like they had the whole thing figured out. Now I just had to hope that I could keep my cool, and that the Slytherins wouldn't abandon me.

"How did you get him to agree to this?" I asked curiously, noticing that we were getting close. He shrugged elegantly, flicking his hair out of his eyes.

"Extortion," he said casually. "That, and we happened to have a bit of gold that he wanted." I stifled the laugh, because we were there.

"Good luck, Weasley," he said, mock saluting me, before turning around and going the way he had came. I watched him disappear around the corner, stalling, before taking a big breath and releasing it. This class was with Hufflepuffs, in addition to all the Gryffindors. At least they wouldn't be too bad…I stepped inside the classroom, slipping into the nearest empty sleep undetected, for the most part. Only three students noticed me, and that was the Hufflepuff I had sat next to, and the two Gryffindors on the other side of the aisle that shot daggers at me. I scowled at them, before turning back to the front.

Professor Flitwick caught my eye from his haphazardly piled stack of books, and I gave him pleading eyes. He nodded discreetly, before getting on with the lecture. I sighed inaudibly; good. He wouldn't make a scene and alert everyone else to my presence. I pulled out my quill and paper silently, noticing that one of the two Slytherins had replaced my quill. Instead of the old frayed one, it was now a sleek new black feather, probably courtesy of some dead raven. I mentally thanked them, before starting on my notes.

The class was going relatively easy, at least until he told us to get into pairs so we could practice out the _Avis _charm he had been discussing, nonverbally. I turned to the Hufflepuff that was sitting next to me, to find her already gone; gods, that girl could move fast. I turned back around to find her chatting up Lucy Templin, a girl in my year, leaving me with Colin Creevey. He had once been pretty nice to me, before we had fallen out touch because of Potter. Now I was going to find out where his loyalties _really _laid; with Potter, his favorite hero, or with me, his once friend.

"Weasley," he sneered at me as I approached. _Well_. It that wasn't telling enough as to which was he was going to go. I hadn't even known him _capable _of sneering.

"Colin." I nodded at him. I'd make it so it was him who made the first move, so that I didn't get accused of provoking him. If I ended up cursing him to next Tuesday, then no witnesses could say that it would be unprovoked. He stood up and moved his desk to the far wall, while I moved my desk to the opposite wall, giving us room to perform the spell. The rest of the class did the same, and soon there was silence as people started practicing the spell.

"Become a house traitor now, have you?" Colin asked softly, holding his wand pointed at me. I didn't even noticed when I had pulled out my own wand, but it was already pointed at him.

"I didn't do anything that wasn't deserved," I whispered back with equally civility, my anger showing in my eyes and nothing else. His eyes flashed savagely.

"You hurt Harry!" he said in a louder whisper.

"I didn't even _touch _Harry!" I hissed angrily.

"That's not what he's saying," he muttered darkly.

"Oh, and since it's your beloved Harry fucking Potter, his word is holy?" I snapped at him. Our argument was rising in volume and hatred. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he whispered something under his breath, and I ducked, _Protego_ coming into my head and flaring up. The spell rebounded onto him, and he cried out, hitting the floor instantly. Everyone instantly rushed towards him, the Gryffindors staring accusingly at me, and the Hufflepuffs glancing at me in worry.

"What is going on?" Flitwick squeaked, pushing through the crowd of students that were ringing around Colin. Well, if he was going to act like that, he wasn't Colin to me any more. Creevey was moaning, and the students were whispering, glances being shot at me. I didn't know what curse he had tried to send at me, but I doubted that it was_ too_ bad. After all, he was a Gryffindor, and a rather stupid one at that, if he was trying to curse me.

"Mr. Creevey!" he squeaked loudly, when he found out who was on the floor. "Who is responsible for this?" My name was immediately spoken allowed numerous times, in different variations; anything from "Ginny," "Weasley," and "Ginevra," to "Ginevra Molly Weasley" and "the Weasel." My scowl deepened with each one; were they all so blindly oblivious to Potter's faults? They didn't have to take everything he said as gospel, and they weren't even giving me a chance to tell my side of the story.

"Miss Weasley!" Flitwick parted the students like he was Hagrid, glaring at me. "Did you curse Mr. Creevey with the Jelly-Legs Jinx?" I resisted the urge to snort.

"No, Professor, I did not. I was only defending myself; my _Protego _sent the jinx back at him. Besides, I'm not so _elementary _to use such a weak jinx. If I was going to curse Mr. Creevey, I don't believe he'd even been talking," I sneered, causing many of the surrounding students to withdraw slightly. This was the first time in a _long _time they had seen me actually speak, much less speak as if I was better than them. It was probably the Slytherin's influence on me.

"Miss Weasley!" he gasped, probably at my comment. "You are to help Mr. Collin to the Hospital Wing, and then you will go immediately to Professor Aberforth!" I nodded, before heading towards Creevey.

"Professor, I don't trust her—" he started. I didn't let him finish; a wave of my wand and a thought _Mobilicorpus _and he was floating out behind me. I also _Accio_'d my belongings, leaving Creevey's where they lay. I didn't really think that me protecting myself was that much of an issue to be sent to Aberforth, but I guessed that I didn't really have that much of a choice. Once I was out of the classroom, I thought _Silencio_ to shut Creevey up; he was being way too much of a cry baby for what that jinx warranted, and he was also annoying the shit out of me.

It was only a short walk to the Hospital Wing, where Madame Pomfrey fussed over him for a good five minutes before I explained to him that he had been silenced and that he had cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx on himself. She had huffed, quickly performing the counter spells.

"Miss Weasley, you could have done that yourself," she reprimanded me as I was walking out, ignoring the glare of Creevey. I wandered up the different hallways and staircases, not in any hurry to make it to Aberforth's office. If I timed it right, I probably would be able to get out of going back to Charm's, and just go to Potions. Good thing I had grabbed my things.

I was idly chatting with the paintings as the scolded me for being out of class, and whenever I mentioned Aberforth's name they would immediately tell me to hurry up and get there. They obviously had a very good opinion of him. Once at the large stone gargoyle, I contemplated him for a few moments.

"Are you going to let me in?" I asked it, my mind already whirling through all the different types of sweets that might be the password. I didn't even need to bother, though; it was already leaping out of the way. I nodded to it, which gained me a grinding nod in return, and ascended the moving stairs, ending up at the door much faster than if I had just stood there. Just as I was about to knock, Aberforth called to me.

"Come in, Miss Weasley." I pushed the door open, finding myself in the familiar office of Aberforth. I had been in and out a few times throughout the years, all in various states of trouble, so I knew it well enough, even though I had been in here most when his brother, Dumbledore, was still headmaster. Out of respect for his memory, Aberforth had requested that we call him by his first name, not his last, since we knew Dumbledore to be his brother, even though they shared the same last names.

I noticed that Fawkes looked fairly young, and I smiled at him, whistling a little tune for his ears. He perked up and flew to me, landing on my arm that I outstretched for him. I scratched his chest lazily as I sat down in the seat that Aberforth pointed out to me.

"Fawkes always did like you," Aberforth commented, his brother's little half smile looking perfectly natural on his face. _Yeah, but Fawkes isn't that great of a judge of character; after all, he saved Potter_, I thought in my head. Good thing that even though Aberforth was known as a skilled Legilimens, I had also studied for years as an Occlumens, at the prodding of Tom. I was now quite skilled at both, and apparently that shocked Aberforth, because his half smile fell off his face and he leaned forward.

"You've been busy, Miss Weasley," he commented gravely. This time it was me who had the half smile on my lips as I leaned back in the chair.

"That I have, Professor," I acknowledged.

"But you're not here about your Occlumency, are you?" I shook my head no. He sighed.

"You've been an excellent student, Miss Weasley, with only a few transgressions here and there. But you've never openly engaged in a duel, especially in the middle of class. That's more of your brothers' thing. Would you care to explain?" I snorted; Fred and George were my heroes, that was for sure.

"I did nothing to provoke Creevey, and he tried to jinx me instead of performing the spell we were working on. I saw his lips moving, and I knew it wasn't the _Avis _spell, so I immediately cast _Protego _on myself. His jinx reflected, and he was the one that suffered. It's his fault; he shouldn't have tried to jinx me in the first place. Or at least use something worth jinxing me with." He made a steeple out of his fingers, the half smile back.

"Miss Weasley, regardless of whether you were actively jinxing Mr. Creevey or not, I'm afraid that by casting a spell as well, shield or not, you were engaging in the fight." I didn't bother fighting this rule; I knew that my brothers had tried to get out of this one numerous times. Well, what they had against them was that the Shield Charm wasn't the only thing they had used in their fights.

"Detention?" I questioned.

"Detention," he confirmed. "But since you were part of the injured party, I'll leave it up to you to decide who you're going to have detention with." This was a new thing; I didn't know he did that. Fred and George certainly had never told me of this happening. I thought about it; really, there were only two choices. McGonagall or Snape.

Right now, I wasn't really that sure that my own house was going to be better than Slytherin. Snape was notorious for having horrible detentions, but that coming from my brother and Potter. They despised him by nature. I didn't really mind him. Besides, I was beyond good at Potions; if he wanted me to make some kind of potion for punishment, I wouldn't have a problem with that.

"I'll take a detention with Professor Snape, if you don't mind," I said calmly. Instead of looking surprised at this certainly unexpected choice of mine, he just glanced at the tie at my throat, before whistling at Fawkes. Fawkes flew off my shoulder and over to his, allowing me to stand up.

"I'll inform Professor Snape. He will tell you the days in your next class with him. Your Charms class should be ending in a few moments, so it would be fine if you went straight down to the dungeons." I walked towards the door, nodding to him in a goodbye.

"Oh, and Miss Weasley?" he called when I was already halfway out the door. I glanced back at him, curious as to what he wanted to tell me. "Try and stay out of trouble," he said, his eyes twinkling. I smirked, closing the door before heading down the stairs. "Stay out of trouble"? Please. If this day was anything to go by, I'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble. Detention before my first class had even ended? That had to be some kind of record.

I made a mental note to owl Fred and George sometime soon. They would enjoy hearing about how their dear sister had managed to land a detention with Snape, voluntary or not, before lunch.

* * *

A/N: Godfuckingdammit. I hate the server. I had this ready last night, the night of the eleventh, but it wouldn't bloody let me upload it!!

Longest chapter so far!! Yay for me. So, notes first, then me talking. But...**OMG. OVER 100 REVIEWS. I EFFIN LOVE YOU ALL. **

Notes:

a) Logan Vaisey is partially real, partially not. Vaisey is a mentioned Chaser from one of the books, but it isn't defined if he's older or younger than Potter. I made him younger. And I made up his first name. But he was a Slytherin, at least that's what the HPL said.

b) Lucy Templin was made up, by me. There is no female Gryffindors in Ginny's age mentioned. What the hell is up with her? (her being JKR)

c) ERROR: ADRIAN PUCEY HAS BEEN ELIMINATED. Turns out he was actually a year older than Potter, making him already graduated. So, children, learn from this lesson: do your bloody homework, which I obviously didn't do. I changed him to Pierce Harper; same thing with Vaisey: made up first name, no defined age, a Chaser, and in Slytherin. He's a Sixth year, too.

d) The Transylvanian Tackle is a real thing, too. It was in Quidditch Through the Ages, which I have.

e) Occlumency: hiding thoughts and emotions. Legilimency: extracting emotions and memories. Just wanted to make that clear.

f) Izzaay, you are a house elf. Congrats.

-End of Notes-

So, bad thing: My uncle died. Well, don't go, aww, poor unkie, because I met him once. I'm not even affected by it, really, except for the fact that I'm going to my friend's house until Sunday because my dad's on a business trip and my mom has to go take care of my Granny. So I won't have access to a computer. This long chapter should make up for it.

Read my profile for how he died; it's kind of funny. I'm very twisted, so I find amusement in dead people.

Lateness: due to the fact I started a new fic. ((hides)) Don't hurt me, I just couldn't get it out of my head. It's going to be a seven-parter, but I won't upload it until it's done. But I really enjoy it so far.

And all you people that add alerts and favorites and etc. that never review...shame on you!

I totally outdid myself on length for A/N. Sorry for the deceiving word count because of it.

-Rapture


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Nine

Pansy glanced up when Theodore walked in, but no one else took notice of his entrance. Draco was too busy examining the exposed skin of Blaise's chest that his gaping uniform afforded him as he made the Veritaserum to even look up. All three had already discarded their robes, the heat from the fires warming them even though the dungeons themselves were shockingly cold. The Slytherins were, by now, used to the chill, but the Gryffindors were huddled tightly around their individual fires.

Theodore tossed his own robes down as he stepped closer to Pansy, rolling up his sleeves and starting to chop up the goat livers, effortlessly melding with Pansy even though she had started the potion without him. Snape was busy taking points off of the Gryffindors, but he did notice Theodore's arrival with a tilt of his head, his eyes speaking for him; he'd discuss it with Theodore after class.

"Did you get her to class?" It was Draco, surprisingly, who asked, and Theodore looked up at him warily before answering.

"Yes."

"And you made sure to give her the tie?" Blaise asked casually, stirring the violet liquid.

"Yes." Pansy answered, dropping in the chopped liver into their lime potion, turning it violet as well with a puff of smoke.

"Good. That hasn't been used in years, but it used to exemplify loyalty to the Slytherin house, also meaning that they'd have the full protection of the house." Draco explained lazily, his eyes never leaving the faintly glowing skin of Blaise's chest.

"Well, I doubt it's going to go over well with her house mates." Pansy said dryly. Blaise looked up sharply.

"Do you think we should…?" He asked, reaching for his robe as Draco mimicked his actions. Pansy shook her head sharply.

"No. Think about it; you barging into a sixth year Charms class just to make sure a Gryffindor's not being eaten alive? _Real _subtle." Theodore snorted.

"I doubt that it'd be Gin that was getting eaten." He chuckled softly while Draco shot him an intense glare.

"When did Weasley become 'Gin?'" He growled in an undertone. Theodore slowed, looking at Draco warily. It seemed as if their entire little group was holding their breath, Blaise discreetly eyeing Theodore as he slowly mixed the potion. Draco was outright glaring at him, and Pansy had stopped stirring completely to watch the sparks.

"Just this morning." Theodore said cautiously. Pansy was also eyeing him warily; she hadn't seen them being particularly close.

"And what were you doing with her this morning?" Blaise asked cheerfully—that wasn't good. They all knew that when either Blaise or Draco were sounding cheerful, then it meant that someone was going to lose vital organs.

"She was getting dressed, and I was getting food." Theodore said calmly. They both still looked murderous.

"Blaise, Draco, stop acting like love struck Gryffindors." Pansy snapped. The effect was instantaneous.

"Pansy!" Blaise nearly shouted, horrified. "We are _not _in love with a_ Weasley_—"

"_Or_ are we acting like Gryffindors!" Draco finished, both looking properly miffed. Pansy caught Theodore's eyes and they both burst into giggles.

"You should have seen your _faces_!" Theodore gasped, leaning against Pansy.

"It was hilarious!" She snickered into her palm. Draco and Blaise looked offended, before returning to the potion, this time Draco working on the actual potion and Blaise watching Draco. The other two's laughter subsided, and silence reigned for a few minutes while they finished up the potions. Once the little bottles were labeled and the sparkling liquid was on Snape's desk, they cleared out the cauldrons, still having a few minutes left in class.

"I think we should check on her." Blaise finally said. Pansy looked at them, exasperated.

"_I _don't think you should. After all, Vaisey's going to be keeping an eye on her. I doubt that she's going to need—"

"Vaisey?" Draco asked incredulously. "You asked _Vaisey _to keep an eye on her?" She bristled angrily, glaring.

"And what the hell is wrong with Vaisey?" She snapped at them. Rather than cower, they both rose to the occasion, feeding off her anger to fuel their own.

"Vaisey is a daft ingrate that doesn't even know the meaning of the word 'watch,' and is probably poorer than Weasley. He'd lose sight of her in the very instant he _caught _sight of her." Blaise snapped, grabbing his robe and tossing Draco his. "We're going." While Theodore and Pansy watched, helpless, Draco signaled to Snape who nodded in return, and then turned back to the two sitting at the empty cauldron.

"We'll see you in History." Draco said coldly, before storming out of the room, following Blaise. Pansy looked at Theodore, scowling mulishly.

"Bloody bastards." She growled under her breath. Theodore laughed, dropping an arm around her shoulder.

"Look at it this way, love; more time with just you and me." She wasn't able to hide the grimace that crossed her face, and he laughed at the sight of it. Pansy glanced at the clock and groaned; it was going to be a long ten minutes.

§

Once I had made it back to the main hallways, I realized that Aberforth had indeed been right; classes had ended already. That was obvious by the buzzing crowd, and the glares from anyone I passed wearing a red and gold tie. I returned the glares with indifferent looks; apparently, Potter had managed to turn the whole house against me in barely two nights. That was pretty impressive, I had to say.

"Move out of the way, _Weasley_." Someone behind me said, before violently knocking against my shoulder as they pushed past me. I shot the girl a cold glare, causing her sneer to fall off her face and make her rush to catch up with the rest of her friends. I snorted to myself. Fifth year Gryffindors—they might have been taller than me, but they were younger. The thing that had scared the "courageous" Gryffindor off though was probably because I was known to be the one that Tom had once "possessed."

I hurried further down the hallway, dodging all sorts of legs that stuck out and elbows to the ribs as I passed my loving house mates. By the time I made it past the library on the fourth floor, I was already pretty damn bruised and inches away from cursing the next person that "accidentally" bumped into me. An angry scowl was plastered onto my face, but that didn't seem to stop people.

An awful ripping sound was suddenly heard from behind me, and I swore violently when my bag considerably lightened. I spun around, drawing my wand and scanning the crowds for the person that had their wand out. Luckily, I caught the person before he could put his wand away: Dean Thomas, his dark skin contorted into a devious grin. Before he could do anything else I whispered the Conjunctivitus Curse, making him cry out in pain and drop his wand. I _Accio_'d it towards me, before pocketing it and quickly repairing my bag and putting everything back in it.

I turned around and started to leave him. I was going to ditch his wand somewhere where he wouldn't find it for a _long _time; I was thinking along the lines of the Vanishing Cabinet, or the Room of Requirement. Maybe not the Room, though; if he knew about its existence, he'd know how to get into it and find his wand. Just as I was about to turn around the corner, a heavy arm settled around my shoulders. An arm that I recognized all too well.

"Well, dearest sister of mine, fancy meeting you here." Ron sneered. I tensed underneath his arm, trying to dart out from underneath him but unsuccessful due to the grip he had on my far shoulder. I turned to glare up at him, his freckled face twisted into a near-grimace. I was immensely happy that somewhere along the line, I had managed to lose my ghastly freckles, so now my skin was just ivory pale and unblemished.

"Let me go." I said quietly. He laughed cruelly.

"I'm afraid not, sister. After all, I believe you've just cursed Dean over there—plus, I know someone that's been _dying _to talk to you." I felt my heart seize first in fear and then in anger. I grabbed my wand, using the Banishing Charm to push him away from me. I glared up at him, only slightly aware that the entire hallway had gone silent.

"Stay the fuck away from me, Ron. I'm through with you and your bloody 'Golden Trio.'" I spat at him violently, my wand hand steady as I pointed it directly at his chest from only a few feet away. His eyes widened, before they settled once again into a self-satisfied smirk that made me wary.

"I wouldn't try threatening me, Ginny." He taunted. I tightened my grip on my wand, taking a step forward.

"You don't even know the _meaning _of that word, Ronald Weasley." I hissed. "I can hurt you so bad that you won't be able to tell the difference between the sky and the ground." His smirk only widened, and I realized why when I was spun around by a furious looking Hermione Granger.

"Threatening your own _blood_?" She asked angrily, her bushy hair bouncing in her ire. My glare only deepened as I took a step away from her, my wand trained on her.

"He's no blood of mine." I spat viciously. "This _farce _has been going on for _two years_, and he's turned a fucking blind eye to it!" She looked murderous, taking a step forward and completely ignoring my wand. She leaned down to glare at me in my eyes, which I definitely wasn't that opposed to. Maybe if she saw just how pissed I was, she'd get a hint that I actually meant business.

"Harry is good for you, you lying little slag." She snarled at me with much more wrath than I could have thought her possible of. "Without him, you're nothing; you need him to be worth anything. Otherwise you're just a useless little waste of space, an annoyance that leeches off of others."

I felt myself falter back a few steps, just to get away from her poisonous words. She wasn't ever nice to me, not after Voldemort had been finally killed, but this was much worse than she had ever been. It was like she had been possessed by Potter, full of much more rage than was usually obvious. It somewhat scared me, actually; I still hadn't fully gotten over my fear of Potter, and having her exhibit signs that he usually did, it was just as bad as seeing him in person.

A muffled gurgle from behind me had me halfway turning, before another arm settled on my shoulders and the other wrapped around my waist. I felt my muscles tense in surprise, ready to leap away, before I realized what I was smelling: expensive cologne. More specifically, Malfoy and Zabini's expensive cologne. I glanced up at them, meeting both of their eyes so they could see how grateful I was of their intrusion. Sure, my pride was curling up in agony at having to be rescued by _them_, but I wasn't ready to take on Potter's groupies, not yet.

"Granger, and here I thought you were knowledgeable." Malfoy drawled casually. He was on my left side, and he was the one that had his arm wrapped around my waist, his wand held casually between the fingers of his other hand.

"We thought you'd notice that Ginny here has a tie on—a Slytherin tie." I was faintly surprised that Zabini actually used my name. Hell, I was surprised they even _knew _my name. Well, maybe that was pushing it; I'd have expected them to extensively research my background before even letting me near Nott and Parkinson.

"And you know what that means, Mudblood." Another muffled sound of outrage came from behind me, and I smirked when I realized what it was. Ron—somehow they had either cursed him or wounded him, and I didn't really care which it was. I didn't even flinch at the name, either; even though my parents had always told me that they were just as equal as us purebloods, they had stressed that I was to never to marry one—to keep the lines pure. Besides, I myself always had a bit of the pureblooded bigotry that the Slytherins were known for. I just hid it better.

"Or do you need us to explain it to you?" Zabini asked smoothly at her silence. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Malfoy's hand started to trace small circles on my far hip, but then settled much more comfortably in their dual hold. After all, it _did _feel unbelievably good.

"A Slytherin tie on a member of another house means that that particular house has extended its jurisdiction over that member of another house, or that the member of the house has given their loyalty to the house." Granger finally spouted out, sounding like a textbook as per usual. I could just _feel _the smirks on the two men next to me.

"Correct, Granger." Malfoy purred. "So that means that if you hurt Ginny here again…"

"We'll_ personally _make sure that you won't be able to read another one of your bloody books again." Zabini hissed, his voice finally losing all traces of civility as his grip on my shoulder tightened again. Malfoy's hold on me also tightened, but neither of them held me so tightly that it was painful. Granger looked sickly, and I couldn't help but feel a smidgeon of satisfaction. _Time someone brought the mudblood down a notch_, I thought to myself. The word slipped into my vocabulary effortlessly, and fell through my subconscious just as easily. Guess those Slytherins rubbed off quickly.

"Come, let's get Ginny down to her class, love." Malfoy urged quietly, and as a single unit we turned around and started walking down the hall. I met the eyes of several stunned students, staring at them until they looked away as we continued down the hall. No doubt this would be around school by my lunch; the two Slytherin princes standing up for Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter's girlfriend, against his two groupies. That would _definitely _have the gossip whores talking.

As soon as we were out of sight of the rest of the students, their arms fell off of me and I had to stop myself from visibly showing the sadness I felt from the lack of their comforting bodies. They still remained close enough to show that I _was _with them, glaring at any poor student that came across us in the hallway. We didn't really have much time left before my next class would start, but I stopped them on the first floor to make use of the Vanishing Cabinet. They both looked at my quizzically, before I grinned wickedly, pulling out the light golden wand that belonged to Thomas.

"You're a bitch." Zabini said in admiration. I preened at the compliment, before tossing the wand in the closet and shutting it.

"No, if I was _really _a bitch I would have transfigured it into a dirty rag." I said casually, striding towards the dungeons. They only took a moment to catch up with me.

"Let me be the first to tell you that you surprise the hell out of me." Malfoy told me, sounding slightly shocked that he was actually saying this to a Weasley, of all people.

"The feeling's mutual, Malfoy." I said dryly. It seemed somewhat strange to still be calling him Malfoy; by now anyone else but a Slytherin would have requested that I use their first name, not their surname. But…it was Malfoy, and I didn't even know him well enough to call him Draco. Besides, it just seemed like a violation of some unwritten law to call him, Zabini, Parkinson, or Nott anything_ but _their surnames.

By now we were pretty much dashing through the dungeons. The passing period of fifteen minutes was going to be over in a just a few more; I had taken too much time cursing Thomas, taking his wand, and verbally sparing with the two-thirds of the Trio. I didn't have any idea how _they _were going to get to class on time, either; I didn't know what their next class was, but Potions was the only class this far down into the school, and it was a very good possibility that they were going to be late if they kept their word and escorted me all the way down to the entrance of the Potions classroom.

"Are you taking me all the way down?" I asked them at large, my breath coming out slightly quicker than normal with my increased blood pressure.

"Yes." Malfoy answered.

"Doesn't that mean that you're going to be late for your own classes?"

"Yes, but that doesn't matter. We're in the same class, and it's only Binns. I doubt he's notice it if we walked right through him when we came in." Zabini said offhandedly. I smiled slightly, finding us only a hallway away. I heard the sound of voices just around the corner, and we slowed down. I glanced at them uncertainly, suddenly nervous, shifting the bag to my other shoulder. They looked at each other, and then fixed their piercing gazes onto me, making me twice as uncomfortable.

"Yeah, so, the class is right there. I better get inside before Snape has a conniption." I said, edging around the corner.

"We don't want to tell you to stay out of trouble." Malfoy started.

"But…if someone even thinks about hurting you, don't be afraid to curse their balls off." Zabini finished. I grinned maliciously.

"Don't worry—I'm not afraid to get a detention for cursing someone." They nodded in approval, before realizing something, both training scrutinizing eyes on me.

"We met you on the fourth floor; the Charms hall is on the third. What were you doing up there?" Zabini questioned sharply. I looked towards the ground, feeling guilty.

"I may have accidentally and inadvertently jinxed Creevey." I muttered into my shirt. I heard twin snorts of amusement and glanced up.

"Jinxed him? That's all?" Malfoy asked. I glared at him, offended.

"Of course not. The bloody coward tried hexing me while we were supposed to be practicing wordless charms." I said, smiling ruefully.

"With what?" Malfoy followed up.

"Jelly-legs Jinx." I snorted. "Stupid boy didn't even know how to curse someone _properly_." Just then, I realized that the voices from the hallway around the corner were gone, meaning that class had started.

"Shit." I muttered, turning around and shooting them an apologetic look. "Snape really _is _going to have a conniption. See you later."

"Pansy's going to pick you up from Potions to take you to your next class." Zabini said. I nodded, waved briefly, and darted around the corner. The door was still open, thankfully, so I was able to dart in and take up my customary seat in the back of the classroom. There was an uneven number of people in the class, so I had always worked by myself; I didn't mind, and Snape didn't really care, either, since I was able to do just as well as by myself as any other pair did together.

The gloomy atmosphere of the dungeon seemed to suit me better than anything, and I secretly loved this class more than any others. Potions was my pride and joy; I was the best at it over all my other classes, and in those I was in the top of my classes. Snape didn't even assign me the same potions that the others were given; he gave me N.E.W.T. level potions and beyond. And I managed to make them all perfectly, too. I grinned to myself; I _definitely _wasn't modest in any way.

"Veritaserum, Miss Weasley." Snape said to me sharply. I nearly jumped out of my chair; I hadn't heard him walk up to my solitary desk. I nodded at him, already reaching for my book. "And we need to talk after class about your detention." I nodded again, and he spun off to go torture some of my classmates.

I stared after him with mixed feelings. Fear was definitely among them; I hoped the Aberforth hadn't felt the need to actually tell Snape that I requested him. After all, even though we had a semi-decent student and teacher relationship, I was still a Gryffindor, and I was supposed to hate him on principle. He tolerated me, and I personally idolized him for his knowledge in Potions, but we hadn't ever had the same kind of relationship that he held with his favorite Slytherin students. I swallowed, getting up to get the ingredients; hopefully, he wouldn't hold the fact that I was a Weasley and a Gryffindor against me.

Hopefully.

---

A/N: Slightly later than I intended, but it's out nonetheless. I'm finally back to sleeping in my own bed, thank the gods, too.

Notes-The Conjunctivitus Curse causes one to lose their sight. I accidentally and temporarily revived Dumbledore from the dead in the last chapter. If you're one of the people that read it, which should be, for the most part, almost everyone that reviewed, sorry 'bout that. I added a note into last chapter's A/N, and now I'm mentioning it here. He's been changed to Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother--thank you sweetsunshine16 for catching this error!

Finals week. Good god, I'm going to flunk all my classes. ((shifty eyes))

Okay, so somewhere I started a new fic. I haven't finished it, but would you be interested in reading it? The downsides of this: my updates would be further apart, since I'd be updating two fics instead of one. The other one is a DGB, too, but a different take on it. Seven parts, seven perspectives. Would you reviewers want me to post it? (I'm not going to tell you more than that, though. It's vague and etc., but I _really _like writing it so far).

Review responses in the author page. Also, I've come to the conclusion that I want 150 reviews for Christmas. I'm not pressuring you to review, not at all--It's up to me to get the chapters out there so you can review and get me to that Christmas present.

...but if you'd review, I'd love you a bit more. :D

-Rapture


	10. Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Ten

For the most part, Potions was uneventful. There were various amounts of swearing that rang out around the classroom when someone screwed up, and then the inevitable docking of points, courtesy of Snape. My potion was actually done about five minutes before class was over, so I put it up in Snape's stores. It took a month for the potion to age properly, so Snape kept it under lock and key in his private stores to prevent any theft. After all, Veritaserum was _definitely_ not a potion that should be all over Hogwarts. I was probably one of the only students that he actually allowed to brew it.

When everyone else was filing out of the room hurriedly, I put up my things much more slowly. I was startled out of my slight reverie when someone dropped something heavy on my desk. I twitched, the only visible sign that it had freaked me out, and continued to load up my books before glancing upwards to find out who it was. Logan Vaisey was sneering down at me. I met his gaze with an empty one of my own.

"Hurry up, Gryffindor," he snapped. "I don't have all day." My gaze was withering as I stood up, shouldering my bag. He was a good foot or so taller than me, but he still took a step back, the sneer falling off his face.

"I need to speak to Professor Snape," I said coldly. He picked up his sneer quickly.

"Going to beg him to spare you a few knuts?" he jeered. I glared at him.

"Shut the fuck up, Vaisey, and get the hell out of my face," I said bitingly, causing him to redden in anger.

"I'm not going anywhere, Weasley. Your new boyfriend cornered me before breakfast this morning and oh-so-kindly asked me to keep any eye out for you. By the way, Weasley, do you mind if I join your little ménage-à-trois? You may be a Gryffindor, but I wouldn't mind having your little mouth sucking me off—and I wouldn't mind finger-fucking Parkinson until she came while Nott fucked her in the ass."

I couldn't honestly say what spell was in my mind when those vulgar words were falling out of his mouth, but all I could think of was just how fucking _rude _he was to two of the people that had saved me. It was a furious rage that was filling me, shooting through my blood like fire and commanding me to jump him, right then and there, and throttle him until he didn't have a breath left in his body.

Luckily for him, though, I had been gripping my wand, and it had gone off with either an unspoken spell that had spun through my mind or just from the violent thoughts that were stuffed into my head. Either way, he was whirling away from me, screaming and clutching at his face, until miraculously, his voice was cut off. I glared at him, filled only with hatred and a pure sense of satisfaction, watching him tumble into a table. I caught sight of his face, and grinned in self congratulations.

Dark laces tied his eyes and mouth shut in a gruesome mockery of stitching. Blood was dripping out of the holes, and it looked beyond painful. The Laces Curse was one of the darkest, and often employed by Voldemort's Death Eaters when torturing muggles. I glanced around to make sure Snape hadn't seen me, and found him innocently writing on a paper at a desk. It was impossible that he hadn't seen me perform the curse on Vaisey; it was unthinkable that he was just going to ignore it. But he was doing just that, ignoring the muffled noises emitted from Vaisey as he stumbled into things.

I grabbed his arm and pushed him towards the door, which he realized was the right way out and tumbled into the light, kicking the door shut accidentally behind him. Now it was just me and the Potions Master—I swallowed. Snape couldn't be _too_ intimidating, could he?

* * *

Pansy was already waiting outside of Ginny's potion class when the class ended. She had resolved to call her Ginny from now on, and not Weasley anymore—if Theodore felt that he could do it, then so could she. It surely was different to be thinking about her by something other than her surname, though.

Pansy was beginning to get just the slightest bit worried by the time that the rest of the students had vanished up the halls to go to their next classes—with no sign of Vaisey or Ginny. She swore violently in her head; if that boy hurt her in _any _way, as Blaise and Draco seemed to think he was going to do, he wouldn't even know the_ beginning _of what it meant to be cursed.

As if she had summoned him by her murderous thoughts, the boy in question came stumbling out of the room, narrowly missing her before he ran headlong into a wall. He groaned in pain, and Pansy wondered briefly just what the hell was wrong with him, before she caught sight of his face. At first, she was taken aback, not sure if she had seen his face properly or not, but then she realized that she had. Someone had cursed him with the Laces Curse, and that someone must have obviously been Ginny.

A strange sense of pride welled up in Pansy at this knowledge, before she halted the feeling before it got _too _large. _I'm proud because a Gryffindor cursed a Slytherin? Things must be getting messed up in my head_.

She watched him moan and groan for a few more minutes before she decided that he had suffered enough, and preformed the counter-curse. After all, she _did _need to be able to interrogate him on whether or not it had been Ginny that had cursed him. It could have been a completely other Slytherin, for all she knew. The major part of her was yelling that a Gryffindor, much less a Weasley, wouldn't even have had knowledge of such a curse, but the smaller part of her was reminding her that Ginny _had _known _A Taste of Hell_ was, so knowing a curse like that should have been normal.

But it was still beyond strange to think of a _Weasley _knowing about dark curses.

"Parkinson!" Vaisey spat at her when he was able to see once again. She was brought back to the present, and that present was a bloody looking Vaisey. He was futilely trying to get the blood off his face, but all he succeeded in doing was smear it down his robes, making his shirt bloody and his robes darker.

"Having a little trouble there, Vaisey?" she asked condescendingly. He only snarled.

"_Your_ bloody Gryffindor cursed me!" he snapped, his voice still managing to sound like a petulant whine. She examined her nails, leaning against the wall and hoping that he hadn't managed to curse her first.

"And why would she do that?"

"Because I tried to escort her to her next class, like your boyfriend requested!" Pansy scoffed at him. It was common knowledge in Slytherin house that Theodore and her weren't going out—much to her secret chagrin.

"Whatever relationship that Theodore and I have is none of your concern," she said dismissively. "On the other hand, however, you were given explicit instructions to escort Weasley to her next class. Care to tell me why you left her, without escorting her to her next class?" He looked at her as if she was a clueless Hufflepuff.

"She_ cursed _me!" he repeated loudly. "What was I supposed to do, just take it and then lead her to her next class?"

"Yes," Pansy snapped at him. "Because you didn't do as you were _paid_ to do, _plus _blackmailed into doing, _you _suffered the consequences. Just because you were hit with the Laces doesn't mean that you were supposed to high tail it out of their like the fucking coward you are. We told you to do something, and you should have done it. Weasley had all the right in the world to curse you." He stared at her incredulously, probably wondering why she would dare take the side of a Gryffindor over a Slytherin's.

"No_ wonder _she got so fucking upset when I mentioned that you were probably fucking," he hissed at her, his eyes venomous. "I was_ right, _apparently—"

He didn't get any further, because he cried out in agony as Pansy whispered the Laces Curse again, she watched with a cruel smirk as his eyes were sewed shut again. Once he was unable to see her or make another sound, she cast a quick _Obliviate _on the bastard so he wouldn't remember who had cursed him. He'd know vaguely that it was one of them—Ginny, Pansy, Theodore, Draco, or Blaise—but he wouldn't be able to point any fingers at them. After all, a Head Boy, two prefects, and two model students would _never _curse another student.

Pansy glanced at the Potions door again, before using her wand to direct the groaning and moaning mess of a boy called Vaisey up the hall and out of her sight and hearing, before collapsing on the wall across the hall from the door. Time to wait, it seemed.

* * *

The door had only slammed shut a few moments before when Snape decided to speak.

"I was told that you were given a detention because you engaged in a fight, correct?" came his smooth voice. I walked up to his desk, stopping in front of it and standing there.

"Yes."

"Care to shed some light on it?" He flicked his gaze upwards to catch mine, pointedly saying that I had _better _tell him, before he turned back to the parchment he was scrawling on and continuing writing.

"Colin Creevey was hit with his own Jelly-Legs Jinx, courtesy of my _Protego_ that I cast on myself when I found that he wasn't going to cast the _Avis _charm on me," I explained shortly. I noticed, with no small amount of shock, a small smile ghost across his face, before it disappeared just as quickly.

"So you were given the detention for participating," he summed up.

"If you could call it that," I said dryly.

"And knowing that you could receive detention for such an act, you once again engaged in a fight just now with Mr. Vaisey." I gripped my wand tightly, wishing I had done more damage to the dirty bastard.

"I don't believe a fight is the proper term, Professor Snape," I said, the wish for violence in my voice not going unnoticed by him. He put down his quill and looked up at me, waiting for me to finish. "A fight could be defined as a thing between two people, with equal vehemence on both sides—I'm afraid that Mr. Vaisey did not engage me with his wand at all, so it could hardly be called a fight." This time, the smirk that twisted his lips was all too real.

"Be that as it may, Miss Weasley, I cannot allow you to continue to engage in fights with any more students—or not engage, as you may have it. Another three detentions will be added on to your other one, due to the severity of the curse you used on Mr. Vaisey." I nodded. I didn't really mind having detentions with Snape; as he had already proven, he was actually quite okay with me cursing people, but he couldn't say that, due to his job. I doubted that he would actually make the detentions hard.

"Yes sir," I said respectfully.

"Your first detention will be served tomorrow night at seven, and will run for the duration of two hours. I will continue to see you at that time for the rest of the week." I nodded, turning around and heading up the aisle towards the door.

"Miss Weasley," he called to me. I turned around, much more willing to hear what he would say to me in parting than what Aberforth had told me.

"Very good job with the Laces Curse—not many can pull that off without using their voice." The smirk that was on his face was much too unbelievable for my brain to comprehend, and all I managed was a weak smile in thanks, before I slipped out the room. I found Parkinson waiting for me, and I quickly fell into step with her. She was silent, waiting for me to explain why I was talking to Snape. I took my time collecting my thoughts.

"Snape complimented me on cursing Vaisey," I said, my thoughts running a mile a minute. She let out a snort of laughter, and I glanced at her in surprise. So this was _normal_?

"He'll do that from time to time when one of his students manage a particularly hard curse, and get away with it," she explained.

"Well, I didn't really get away with it; he gave me three additional detentions." She nodded. I guessed that she had already heard from Malfoy and Zabini.

"He couldn't really just let you get away with it; what do you think it'd do to his reputation?" We both shared a laugh at this.

"Too true," I commented, thinking just how much of a pushover Snape'd seem if he was known to pardon Ginny Weasley for cursing one of his students.

"What exactly did Vaisey say to make you curse him?" she questioned in a detached voice. I instantly scowled.

"Just wanted to join our apparent little fuck party we had going on." I watched the look of rage pass over her face, before she patted me on the back.

"Then you were good to curse him. I took it off him for a short few minutes, though; I needed to properly chastise him for leaving you. He didn't need to know that Draco and Blaise have actually already deigned that having him escort you around to your classes is a properly horrid idea, so we'll be alternating who picks you up and who doesn't. Speaking of which, we need a copy of your schedule."

"I don't need you all to take me to each of my classes!" I protested. "Honestly, I can get there perfectly fine, and you know I can take care of myself." She shook her head, her face grim.

"Don't even bother. When they get into this kind of mood…it's best to just do what they want you to do." I slumped, resigned, before digging in my bag for an extra copy of my schedule. She pocketed it after giving it a cursory glance, and then we subsided into silence once again. We were nearing the entrance of the school, because I needed to go out to the greenhouses for Herbology.

"Do you…do you want to talk about what happened in your last passing period?" Her voice was tentative, and I surmised that anything emotional was pretty hard to talk about in front of a Weasley. I myself flushed and looked at the ground; I didn't really want to have a heart-to-heart with Parkinson just yet. That would just be too fast for my comfort.

"Not particularly," I muttered. I saw her stiffly nod on the periphery, before thankfully, I heard voices and realized that we were there.

"Good. Well, we're here, so I'm going. I…well, if you do want to talk about it, I'll just see you tonight." I nodded at her, eyeing the amassed crowd before me with trepidation. She seemed about as eager as I was to drop the subject. I wasn't going to talk about it any time soon, that was for sure.

"Thanks, Parkinson," I told her quietly, out of earshot of the group of students. She nodded.

"You're welcome. And…well, no need to surnames if you're going to be living with me. Call me Pansy." I glanced up sharply. This was definitely not a normal occurrence. To my knowledge, only the Slytherin's closest friends called her by her first name. This was definitely an honor.

"Ginny, then," I said, and we shared a brief moment of understanding, before she turned around and walked back up to the castle. I turned back to the students, watching them start to file in, before sighing inaudibly and joining them. I sat at my usual table, staring warily at the thorny red vine that was curling around in a shallow bucket, before someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned, and found Luna Lovegood standing there.

"Good morning, Ginny," she said in her usual spacey-sounding voice.

"Hi, Luna," I told her, only slightly edgy. I hadn't talked to her in ages, of course, but Luna had never really been against me or with me, so to speak. She was just kind of…there.

"Mind if I work with you?" she asked, already sitting down and giving me to room to argue. I shrugged helplessly.

"Go ahead." She smiled at me slowly, before leaning forward and plucking an invisible something out of my hair. At my curious glance, she explained.

"Wrackspurt." I nodded sagely; she believed in a variety of creatures that I myself was slightly doubtful about, but I couldn't really outright deny their existence. Especially the Wrackspurt, who Luna claimed was invisible. She shook her hand lightly, as if disorienting the tiny Wrackspurt that she was clutching, before tossing it over her shoulder. I had ceased many years ago wondering about her strange beliefs; they were just a part of Luna, and I didn't want to doubt her with she being one of my only friends.

"Class, we will be milking the Venomous Tentaculas today. You and your partner should be able to have a small quantity by the end of class. Be sure to use your gloves, and be extremely careful; the thorns are poisonous." I was already pulling on my gloves, and I watched Luna do the same.

"What are we supposed to milk on it?" a Gryffindor boy asked. He was shot numerous glances from many of the Ravenclaws due to his hopeless lack of brains, and he squirmed in his seat. Professor Sprout took pity on him, though.

"You squeeze the thorns. You will be milking their poison today. Used correctly, it is also a powerful restorative, said to bring back the memories of the dead." This was an interesting property, and I remembered reading it somewhere once. I was going to harvest a bit more than normal, so I could take my own little stash.

"You can use my vial, Ginny," Luna offered dreamily, holding out a small glass vial. I took the bottle, looking at her curiously.

"What for?"

"I know you want to get some for yourself, so go ahead," she replied calmly, reaching for the spare bucket. "You harvest your bit first, and then you can help me with the stuff we need to turn in." I looked at her in a new light; apparently she was much more perceptive than I had originally given her credit for.

"Thanks, Luna." I quickly did what she told, making sure no one caught me as I slipped the vial into my pocket. The plant was squirming much more violently now, and I knew it was going to be harder to do.

"I heard that you and Harry had a falling out," she said quietly in her dreamy voice. I tightened my grip on the plant before loosening it again; no need to go killing it.

"Yes," I answered shortly while she squeezed the thorns, squirting violently green poison into the bucket.

"That's good to hear." I had to catch myself; had I heard her right?

"Come again?"

"Harry hasn't been the same since he killed Voldemort." Luna had also never had a problem with saying Voldemort's name—that made a small handful out of the entire Wizarding world that was willing to, even though he was dead.

"That's true," I commented dryly.

"I'm happy that you're not with him any more. You were being suffocated." I had to snort at this accurate image. I was pretty sure that Potter _had _tried to suffocate me on a few occasions, before he had realized that my family wouldn't forgive him—although my brother Ron didn't seem to have a problem with it.

"Thanks, Luna."

"And if you ever get tired of spending the night in Slytherin house, I've got plenty of room in my bunk in Ravenclaw. All you need to do is answer a question to get in, and I'm positive that you'll be able to." I shot her a grateful smile, not even wondering how she had gotten that information. Knowing just how perceptive she was, it was pretty easy to assume that she had simply either overheard it or seen it.

"Thank you, Luna," I said, and we fell into an easy silence. I was rather happy to find that my only allies right now weren't just Slytherins. I could also count on Luna. That made a small few that I actually could count on, but it was still quite a bit more than it had been a few nights ago.

The rest of the class went quickly, our partnership effective enough to allow that we finished harvesting before anyone else, and had time to idly chat before the class was over. She was very easy to talk to, I found, mainly because she didn't speak where it wasn't need to. I also returned the favor and heard a story or two about _The Quibbler _and her father, and was very happy to actually renew the friendship with her. It was a nice feeling. She waved at me and went with the rest of the students when class was over, and I only had to wait a few more moments before I walked out as well.

It wasn't Nott or Parkinson—_Pansy_, I corrected myself—waiting for me. It was Malfoy.

Lunch with Malfoy. Oh, joy.

* * *

A/N: Zomg. 140 reviews. ((passes out)) I thank absque amor especially; she/he reviewed on every chapter up to date, instead of just the latest one. Thank you so much!

Notes-Wrackspurt is real. In Luna's point of view, though. And the Venomous Tentacula, although its poison property is all made up by me.

Fun fact: About three paragraphs in here were typed with only my right hand because I was eating a mango popsicle.

So, yeah, I'm definitely going to have 150 reviews for Christmas, so I love all of you so much!! Thank you!

I have posted a new story, too, at the request of a few of you reviewers. It is feeling an obvious lack of many reviews, so _do _go add the few reviews company, please. It's a DGB as well called Seven Deadly Sins--and if you're complaining about the lack of DGB in this story so far, that one definitely won't have a lack. It's about the darkest desires and wants that people can experience, and it starts off hard and fast. I love writing it. You should love reading it.

'Nother Note: My name has been changed from "Bloody Rapture" to "Sinful Rapture." I just liked it better.

Review responses on profile.

Make me happy and review?

Merry Christmas to everyone!! And various other holiday exclamations to those that don't celebrate Christmas. Hope you get loads of loot!

-Rapture


	11. Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Eleven

"Malfoy," was my short and admittedly unwelcome greeting. "Where's Zabini?" I couldn't help the words that fell out of my mouth, but they made the most sense to me in my head. Of course, they sounded downright rude when I said them aloud, but I wasn't going to take them back. Besides, I had every right to ask that question; I hadn't seen Zabini and Malfoy separated yet. It seemed…almost wrong, as if someone had deliberately torn apart the two parts of a whole and made sure they were far away from each other.

That might have been a bit melodramatic, but Luna often had that effect on me. She put things into perspective, and that perspective usually was quite cynical and pessimistic.

"Hello to you too, Weasley," Malfoy said dryly, turning towards the school and naturally falling into step next to me. I couldn't help but notice how he either consciously or subconsciously shortened his strides so I wouldn't have to practically jog to keep up with him. How thoughtful of him.

"You didn't answer the question," I pointed out, but I said it in the least offensive voice that I could muster.

"He's sticking with Theo and Pansy. It would look odd to have more than two of us missing when you are too." I scowled off towards the school, thinking.

"That's pretty useless, though. The whole school knows you two are hardly ever not glued to each other's hips, and with the way that Potter has been spreading the story, everyone should know that I've spent the past two nights either in your room or Slytherin house. It's only a matter of time before the student body's just going to think it odd that we're avoiding the issue." At this, Malfoy shot me a glare.

"Yes, I _know _that, but I kind of liked the idea of deluding myself." I squashed down the grin that wanted to break across my face at this; from Malfoy's expression, he surely didn't mean it to be funny.

"I've heard that the weather in Egypt is pretty nice this time of year," I commented offhandedly. He shot me a glance out of the corner of his eye, holding open the door for me to step into the school. I gave him a nod in thanks, before we fell back into step next to each other, heading towards the kitchens.

"Why would I be concerned about Egypt?" he asked me, his voice guarded.

"Well, because you're in the Nile, aren't you?" I asked, faux confusion spreading over my face. He only scowled the more deeply at my little pun.

"Haha, Weasley, so funny. It's a good thing that I don't seek you out for your wit." I huffed, poking him in the arm in indignation.

"Excuse me, Mr. I'm-so-funny-I'm-practically-a-bloody-comedian," I said hotly. "_I _thought it was rather clever, if a bit overused, so you can just shut your overly large mouth about me and my jokes." He smirked devilishly, and dropped an arm over my shoulders, drawing me so close to him that my entire right side was pressed up against him. I had to fight to keep my breath even; he shouldn't have been affecting me like this, but he was. Luckily, though, I had spent a few years controlling my emotions so they wouldn't used against me, so I didn't think that he suspected my inner turmoil.

"I_ can _be funny, Weasley. Most girls usually aren't laughing whenever they find themselves with me, though. It's usually along the lines of either moaning, gasping, or whimpering…" I felt my breath catch in my throat, a heat rushing through my body at his words. "…whenever they find themselves getting beat by me in Quidditch," he finished smoothly, abruptly trampling any kind of warm feelings I was having towards him. I scowled, shoving him away from me. Much to my surprise, he sniggered. I shouldn't have been too surprised, though—they were all opening up a lot more than I had ever expected.

"Way to be a prat, Malfoy," I said, hiding my amusement. He smirked in a self-satisfied way.

"Thank you, Weasley. Whenever you insult me it's like music to my ears," he declared dramatically.

"Hopefully of the painful grating kind," I muttered. I saw him grin to himself, this time full of much more than just simple pleasure. This grin seemed to be full of violence, and I half guessed at who he was aiming it at.

"No, that's usually reserved for the Siamese Triplets," he said softly and maliciously, abruptly ending the conversation as we both sank into bloody and wishful thoughts. If only…

When we made it to the kitchens, Malfoy did the honors of tickling the pear, mainly because he felt that it was his gentlemanly duty to do so, and I wasn't in the mood to stop him. He held the door open for me, again, but left me to talk to the house elves. I shot him a glare, and he only smirked, as if to say, _Get me something tasty, but the little trolls are _your_ problem._

"Two pieces of pita bread, a bit of tzatziki, two goblets of pumpkin juice, two plates of grilled chicken with steamed vegetables on the side, and a bowl of strawberries," I listed off to the closest house elf. With an elaborate bow and promises of quick service, the elf was gone, and I turned to see Malfoy raising a sardonic brow.

"What?" I asked, defensive.

"Greek?" he asked speculatively. "I didn't think you'd have much variety living in that hovel you call a home." I didn't wince at the insult, but it did sting. _This _was the Malfoy I had been expecting, though, so I knew how to deal with him. I shot him a glare over my shoulder as I walked towards a table, sitting down. He sat across from me while I answered him, dropping my bag to the floor while he did the same.

"My family was poor, but I wasn't above using a few…_methods _to gain some money so I would have some culture in my life," I said venomously, and he nodded, as if me mentioning that I had stolen some money was normal to him. Hell, he probably expected it. To my knowledge, I wasn't sure that any of my family members had ever stooped so low as to steal for the needs, but then again, I was positive that none of my family members were quite as unscrupulous as I was. Besides the twins, of course. They had probably done their share of filching, as well, at least until they'd hit the jackpot with Potter.

"Did you limit your experiences to just food?" he asked daintily, as the food was laid out before us on silver platters, just as quickly as the elf had promised. I had to admit, the little twerps were fast. I tore off a bit of the pita bread and dipped it in the tzatziki, choosing to take a bite and swallow before I answered him.

"No. Whatever money I stole usually went towards potions ingredients." He was in the middle of chewing up a bit of chicken, but when he heard this, he froze. Slowly, he raised his head, watching me innocently eat more pita bread with narrowed eyes. I could literally see the gears grinding in his head. He swallowed a bit more slowly before putting to words what he was mulling over in his mind.

"Fourth and fifth years, all those missing shipments…?" He posed it as a question, but his face was delicately frozen in polite interest, and I only ate some more pita bread, pulling out all my acting skills for the big test. If I could get Malfoy to believe me…well, that proved a lot more about my ability to conceal my emotions, as I was currently on the verge of cracking up with laughter.

"What missing shipments? And do you mean my fourth and fifth years or yours?" I finished up the slice of pita I had been working on, and turned to the chicken, digging in heartily. He raised a bite to his lips, and chewed it slowly. I had to admire the guy for being able to pin me with his gaze and still manage to stab a piece of chicken and successfully make it to his mouth, without looking.

"Mine. And the missing potion ingredients." I shook my head violently, giving him a look of scorn to complete my façade.

"I don't know what you're talking about, frankly. The only potion ingredients I managed to steal were from Knockturn Alley, not some of the students'. How the hell would I manage to intercept owls, anyway?"

That actually had been one of my initial questions, when I had first thought of the idea. It was quite simple, though; all I had to do was catch the owls outside of the Great Hall right before mail came in, and stun any of the owls that were carrying bulky packages. I would sit there on a borrowed broom, freezing my tail off, but stunning all the owls that came near me, drifting them to the ground. Afterwards, I'd quickly go through them, usually throwing back those I deemed unimportant—for the most part, anything that wasn't being delivered to a Slytherin.

I usually would have a frozen bum for the first half of the day, but the reward was more than worth it; those Slytherins sure knew how to get the darkest ingredients there were.

I was only marginally surprised when Malfoy didn't immediately relax; I thought I had done a fairly good job lying, and I knew that if it had been anyone else, they would have taken what I said as truth immediately. But not Malfoy, and probably not the other three I had been so recently acquainted with. Honestly, those four had to be the most devious, fascinating, and untrusting of any of the students in the school. The most dangerous to me, though, was the fact that they were fascinating; that certainly didn't bode well for me.

"This subject isn't finished," he warned me. I schooled my expression into a confused one, trying to sound insistent and innocent at the same time.

"Why not? You don't believe me?" He smirked without humor, only cold calculation in his eyes.

"Not particularly, Weasley," he said dryly. I shrugged, as if to say,_ Not my problem_, before turning back to my pita bread. Once I had successfully devoured the rest of the tasty Greek food, I glanced up to see if Malfoy was as far along as I was. He, too, seemed to thoroughly like the meal.

"Next time, I'll tell Blaise to take you to lunch," he commented, surveying the remainder of the food.

"Why?" I asked, dragging the large bowl of strawberries closer in an instinctually possessive habit.

"His mother's Greek. He'll tell you every time that these little things can't even compare to Vasiliki's home cooking," he said, shooting a distasteful look at the closest elf. I was hard pressed not to do the same; I honestly could see where many of the Slytherins were coming from when it came to loathing them. All they ever did was…well, prostrate themselves and just act overall inferior whenever I was near them. They hadn't ever done something to gain my respect, and they probably never would.

"Vasiliki?" I asked, the exotic name twisting my tongue. It was beautiful, and obviously foreign.

"Blaise's mum," he answered shortly, eyeing the strawberries that I was hoarding on my side of the table. I relented a bit, pushing them out so he wouldn't have to dive across the entire table just to get a bit of the red fruit. The strawberry in my hand drew my interest, now that he had stopped talking, and I had to resist not splaying out down the table. Instead, I just rested on one arm, closing my eyes in utter rapture with the first bite of the decadent fruit. Savoring ever bit, I slowly sucked every bit of juice I could out of it, before swallowing. I continued this way for the whole fruit, before opening my eyes and finding Malfoy watching me in amusement.

"What?" I asked sharply, defensive, as I tossed the top away from me. I couldn't help the fact that whenever I ate the fruit, which I had long ago found to be a guilty pleasure and weakness of mine, I usually slipped into a bit of a trance.

"Just…enjoy your strawberries much?" he asked in amusement as he absolutely desecrated his strawberry by biting it in half. I stared at him, half in shock, half in horror, as he finished his strawberry off in two bites.

"Have you no _shame_?" I demanded hotly. "Have you no sense of _etiquette_?" I ignored his look of amusement. "You only finish a strawberry off in two bites after you've already eaten seven of them!" I couldn't believe that he hadn't ever heard of this holy law. It was probably written in blood somewhere; for the first three strawberries, you had to eat them slowly, the next two you were allowed to eat them in four bites, the two after that you could eat in three bites, and then by the eight you could eat them in two bites. After that, though, the rules kind of fell of the earth and it was just a free for all.

I usually only reserved eating past seven strawberries for special nights, and certainly not in front of _Malfoy_, of all people.

"I was unaware of there being any rules to eating food," he remarked carefully, as if gauging just how far I was willing to go when it came to the strawberries. When I attempted to lunge across table to strangle him, he smoothly stood up, grasping me by the arm and dragging me out of the kitchens. He also managed to grab both of our bags, which in itself was a miracle since I was concentrating on bodily harm to him.

"Apparently, those strawberries mean a bit too much to you," he commented dryly as he dragged me up the hall, successful avoiding any attempts I might have had at his life and also managing to walk at the same time. I finally regained my senses, partially, and he let go of my arm, allowing me to walk beside him and handing me my bag. I pouted.

"I can't _believe _you don't know the way to eat strawberries. That's…sacrilegious," I said, scandalized. He shot me a glance.

"And tell me, little Gryffindor, do I look in _any _way religious to you?" He arched a perfect eyebrow, and I had to resist the answer that was right on my tongue: _Yeah, the same way that Lucifer did after He fell from Heaven._ Of course, I didn't say that; he didn't need to know that I likened him to a fallen angel, especially the most powerful of all. Besides, he _definitely _didn't need an ego stroking; he did enough of that himself.

"Of course. I can see you attending Mass every morning, lunch, and dinner," I responded cheekily, adjusting my bag. The look he shot me was exasperated and slightly annoyed.

"Yes, and I can also see you and your rotten family begging for alms at the back of the church," he said bitingly, causing me to recoil just a bit from the acerbic comment. What the hell had I done to deserve_ that_? And here I was, thinking that we were just joking…

It then hit me that I had actually forgotten that it was Malfoy I was joking with. Sure, I had known that it was Malfoy, but I hadn't taken the time to realize that the Malfoy I had been teasing was still _Malfoy_, the Slytherin prince and ultimate prat. So now, this comment was both expected and unexpected. Expected because I had been waiting for him to sink back into git mode the past few days, and unexpected because I had thought that the sneering insult or blatant disregard for my feelings would have come sooner.

By springing that comment on me when I had already gotten used to him, well…that just proved something. Don't trust until you get to know how their heart works, and I obviously didn't know how his worked yet.

It was a good reminder, too. I had forgotten that the only person I could trust was myself. It was an unwelcome reminder, that was for sure. _But, probably for the best_, I thought moodily. They had accepted me much too soon, and I had realized this before, but never had I considered what that actually meant. I was just going with it, when I should have been raising my guard, preparing for the inevitable let down that was to come soon.

But, I might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

The space of time where it was adequate to answer was long gone, and we were somewhere near the fourth floor. I guessed that Pansy had handed off the schedule to Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott; it made me only vaguely uncomfortable to know that they would know exactly where I would be at any given time. But, that was probably for the best, as well. I glanced at Malfoy and found his face as expressionless as always, and not at all telling about what he was thinking. So, no help from there. If he had at least been looking slightly contemplative, I would have been able to start a conversation off of that, but no, he had to be all stoic…

"Did you know that that mirror leads to a passageway out of Hogwarts?" Malfoy startled me with his soft voice, and I looked to where he was pointing. I recognized it; the slightly tarnished silver frame was intrinsically carved with care, and the mirror itself was only slightly warped by time.

"Yes, but Fred and George told me it was blocked." As soon as I had entered Hogwarts—hell, my first night in Hogwarts—the twins had cornered me, imparting to me one of the two maps that they had. The original copy they had kept for themselves, even though they practically had the whole thing memorized, but they felt that they should give the back up copy to their younger sister, the one most like them in nature. The back up had been made by the Marauders to use if the original had been destroyed, but Fred and George just felt that it was better to give me the back up. It was stowed away in my things back in Pansy's room.

"Blaise, Theodore, Pansy, and I cleared out all the rocks about three years ago. We've been using it as a way to get out of the castle since," he commented, as if talking of the weather. He didn't show any surprise at having found that I knew about the secret passages of Hogwarts. I mentally filed a note away in my head to show them the map eventually if it turned out that they weren't going to come out and be finished with being nice to me.

"How many more do you know about?" I asked. Because I didn't really see them as figuring out how to get to all the secret passageways without having a map, unless they had taken the time and hunted down each and every one. Which would have taken a _long _time.

"From the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack," he stated. I looked at him challengingly; if he was going to make this a competition, well, I was positive that I could beat him.

"Humpbacked one-eyed witch to Honeydukes," I said flatly.

"Wilfred the Wistful to the hollowed tree outside of Hogsmeade."

"Gregory the Smarmy to Gladrags cellar."

"The suit of armor on the second floor to the cave outside of Hogsmeade."

"Boy's bathroom on the sixth floor to the rock behind the Post Office." At this, he sent me an amused smirk, as if to ask, _What were _you_ doing in the boy's bathroom on the sixth floor? _

"Room of Requirement to a portrait in the Hog's Head," he finished up quietly, before we both looked at each other in a sort of stunned silence, both of us amazed at the knowledge of the other, our steps still paced evenly. I had recognized all that he had told me, and obviously he did too for the ones that I had told him. The only one that wasn't on the mini-Marauder's Map—mini because it was slightly smaller than the original—was the passageway from the Room of Requirement. I had found that one when I had wanted a way out of Hogwarts, and had gotten it in the form of a passageway to the Hog's Head.

"How did you find them all?" I asked him.

"How did _you _find them all?" he asked back, answering the question with a question. I knew he probably didn't have another Marauders Map, so he had probably found them painstakingly throughout the years. I was extremely grateful to the twins, knowing they had saved me hours of wasted time searching for passages, and resolved to send them a long thank you letter in the near future.

"Good point," I said, now noticing that we were at my classroom now. Our little secret passageways duel had successfully dissipated any leftover malice from our earlier conversation, and for that I was thankful. When noticing that we still had a few minutes until the class actually started, Malfoy sat on the floor. I looked down at him curiously.

"What are you doing?" I was also wondering where Malfoy got the guts to dirty his no doubt expensive clothes, but then decided not to ask, correctly assuming that to do so would once again drive a stake in whatever amiable relationship we had going on at the moment.

"Sitting down. What did you think it looked like?" he sneered. I shrugged, dropping my bag beside his before sitting down next to him. I was far enough away to not be touching him, but I was still close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him. Discreetly, I shifted my weight so I wasn't quite so close to him; being that close was doing weird things to my thought process, and I didn't want him to be noticing it. From the wicked grin I saw on his face, though, he probably had noticed it. I only scowled at him.

"Afraid to be too close to the snake, little lion?" he taunted. I smiled slowly, showing my teeth in what was no doubt at least an eerie sight. I knew that the look would have definitely scared off a few of the younger Hufflepuffs, that was for sure, though it didn't even affect Malfoy's features.

"Why would a lion be afraid of a snake? We're prided for our bravery, after all, and I'm definitely not afraid of touching a little albino snake." I smirked at the ticked off glint in his eye, although his expression didn't waver. My expression must have frozen, though, when he leaned closer, nearly on top of me, his left arm on the wall to my right and holding himself barely over me, his breath caressing my ear and ruffling my hair while each of my breaths brought my chest flush with his.

I couldn't help my pulse speeding up and my breaths coming out faster, my hand curling into a fist to prevent myself from either leaping away from him, or, the much more dangerous option, eliminating the scant bit of space between us and crushing my lips to his. _Off limits! _my mind screamed at me. _He's a fucking Malfoy, and Zabini's boyfriend to boot. He's as straight as a broken wand, so he's got to be only teasing_, my thoughts tried to see reason. But…it didn't stop the primal craving in me.

"Look me in the eye, lion, and tell me that you're not afraid of a little…contact with a snake," he breathed into my ear, causing my skin to prickle and a flush to work its way across my cheeks at the implications of his words. Before I had a chance to reply, though, a loud and indignant voice tore through the silence.

"_Mr. Malfoy_! Remove yourself from Miss Weasley this _instant_!" Professor Babbling, my Ancient Runes teacher, nearly screeched, startling me so bad that I jumped, giving Malfoy and I a brief fraction of a second to have full body contact, also giving me reason to believe that Mr. Malfoy wasn't as homosexual as I had initially thought. My blush decided to become a full-bodied one, especially when Malfoy decided that he had to temporarily lose all strength in his arms and more or less collapse on top of me. Any air I had in my lungs whooshed out, tousling the silky fine blonde hair obscuring my view.

I froze in the middle of an inhale when a wet warm thing trailed around the contours of my ear, before Malfoy's weight was instantly gone, leaving dazed and confused on the ground. _Was that his _tongue?

I vaguely caught Professor Babbling berating Malfoy on proper etiquette, alternatively shaking a finger at me while scowling and telling me that I shouldn't be acting like a common trollop. I glanced at Malfoy to see how he was taking this, and was surprised to recognize that he was amused by the situation. Apologizing profusely to her, and spouting off other bits of useless bullshit—"Abstinence is key, Professor. It's my motto."—he finally got around to holding out a hand to me, pulling me up beside him.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hissed at him, smiling angelic for the Professor's prying eyes.

"Why, Ginny, I promise to _never _touch you in any way again—and I'm terribly, terribly sorry that my arm gave out like that, quite unfortunate, really—" Malfoy was saying, a mischievous glint in his eyes while his features were schooled into the epitome of innocence. I didn't believe it one instant, but Babbling was eating it up like it was cream.

"Saving us from detention, Weasley," he hissed at me when she wasn't looking at us.

"We wouldn't be in danger of detention in the first place if you hadn't decided to get all cozy on top of me!" I whispered back in a slightly louder tone, causing Babbling to turn back to us. "It's perfectly fine, Draco, I was only praying to the gods and being thankful, I can always just do that in one of the other seven times I pray each day—" Honestly, I was immensely surprised to see just how dense Babbling was. I thought she was smarter than that. _Hagrid _would have realized that we were lying on the spot.

"I wasn't on _top _of you. Merely a few inches," he muttered back while I went on my spiel about being holy.

"A few _inches_?" I whispered incredulously while he took over the ass kissing. "If a mile counts as a hand's width, then yeah, a few inches!"

"Alright, children, I need to get my class started. Miss Weasley, you may pray all you like, just as long as it doesn't interfere with your school work. And Mr. Malfoy, _do _try to stay off of Miss Weasley," Professor Babbling interrupted our heated argument by flourishing towards her door, swinging it wide and bustling in. Malfoy, on the other hand, sauntered to the wall where our bags were, picking up his bag and holding it over his shoulder in the way that just screamed casual. He was smirking while I stormed over there and grabbed my bag.

"_You_—" I started, jabbing him hard in the chest with my finger, "are _seriously_—"

"Going to be late," he cut off smoothly, turning down the hall and walking away as if he owned the place. I bristled in place; that was _not _the way I was going to finish the sentence, that was for sure. The way I was going to end it had a few chosen "fucks" and "shits" placed liberally throughout…

"I trust you to make it to your classroom okay?" he threw over his shoulder. I glanced at the open door, quickly grabbing my wand and performing a spell to prevent my yell from being heard.

"You're a prick, Malfoy!" I yelled at him. He only tossed me a grin and flew the bird at me, before disappearing around the corner.

"Ginny," a dreamy voice asked from behind me, "how was lunch with Malfoy?" I groaned and turned to find Luna there, with an assortment of other Ravenclaws that were looking at me as if I had just grown two extra heads and a tail. They had obviously heard every word.

"Peachy," I said, walking towards the classroom and dissipating the warding around it with a thought and a flick of my wand. "Just _peachy_."

* * *

A/N: Holy shit. That's so long. I didn't even intend for it to be that long, either, but Draco just _had _to go and lick Ginny...he was just supposed to say bye and leave, none of that crawling on top of her crap...((shakes head sadly)) Naughty Draco.

Notes: Ho hum...oh, Professor Babbling is the name of the teacher that JKR had in one of her notes, but it never came up in the books so it's not really official. Yeah, so, not a lot of notes.

Review responses are in the profile. Did everyone have a good christmas/any other type of holiday celebration? I got a new phone. And a Spooner. No, it's not a sexual position, it's the cool snowboarding stimulator (hardy har har) that's about two feet long. It's wicked. The chapter for Seven Deadly Sins will be out sometime tomorrow. If I get around to writing it, that is. :P Thanks to all who checked that one out, too.

Review, please? It makes me grin stupidly. :D Like that, but stupider.

-Rapture


	12. Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Twelve

Blaise was the only one who looked up when Draco slipped into the Charms classroom, unnoticed even though he was a few minutes late. Pansy and Theodore quickly looked up as well when they heard his chair scrape against the ground, but it seemed as if they were the only ones who even noticed his entrance. Everyone else was still jotting down notes as they listened to Professor Flitwick's squeaky lecture.

"How was lunch?" Blaise asked in an undertone as he idly doodled on his paper. Pansy and Theodore both subtly leaned backwards on their chairs so they could be in the conversation as well.

"Fantastic. Weasley ordered us Greek—" Blaise made a small sound of approval. "—and I walked her to class. Unfortunately, Babbling caught me licking her ear, so we had to come up with some hasty excuses." Draco's voice was casual and calm, and he might as well have been commenting on her clothes, for all the enthusiasm he had for the conversation. Blaise, on the other hand, smirked darkly and patted Draco on the back.

"Bloody good. I knew I kept you around for some reason," he said, the pride and envy evident in his voice. Theodore smirked while Pansy looked offended.

"You did _what_?" she hissed backwards to them.

"I licked her," Draco repeated slowly.

"What did she taste like?" Theodore asked, smirking full-blown now. Pansy scowled and hit him on the arm. When he realized that he had offended her, he laid both arms over her shoulders, clutching her back to his front. Blaise glanced towards the tiny wizard; if anything, that sort of hug, especially where Theodore's hands were hanging innocently, should have given him the hint that his seventh year Slytherins weren't paying as close attention as they should have been.

But the wizard was oblivious as Theodore whispered dark promises into Pansy's ear, causing a light pink tinge come onto her cheeks at his declarations. Neither Blaise or Draco could hear him, and for that, they were happy; as much as they liked both of them, they didn't want anything to do with their sex life. At _all_. Pansy eventually shoved him off, muttering angrily under her breath while Theodore looked smug.

"Anyway," Blaise continued. "What really went on?" Draco shrugged nonchalantly.

"Nothing much. Weasley's got a fetish for strawberries, though." They both shared a look, wicked grins alighting on their faces as their thoughts mirrored each other.

"Really," Blaise drawled. "Well, I think I'm going to have to test this out for myself."

"Careful, love. Kitten's got claws when it comes to her strawberries. She'll forego her wand in favor of strangling you." Blaise blanched, before grinning just as widely as before.

"Good. I was beginning to think that she was actually normal." Pansy finally quit fuming, leaning back against their table while sending a death glare at Theodore.

"Care to share what the look in your eye is, Blaise?" she said smoothly, only traces of her anger with Theodore leaking through. Blaise shot a quick glance at Draco, before leaning forward on the table.

"Depends on which one it is," he breathed into her ear. Draco caught the hard stare that Theodore was sending at Blaise, and sat back smugly._ Finally, the bloody idiots are figuring it all out_.

"The one that's saying, 'I've got Gryffindor for dinner tonight,'" she said dryly. He smirked.

"Maybe that's because I'm going to see just how…tasty little Ginny Weasley is." His voice had dropped to the dark and dangerous sound that promised either sex or death, depending on the usage of it. And Pansy could tell which one _that _was going to be. She huffed.

"Well, just as long as you don't shag her in my room, I'm okay with it." Blaise leaned back, sneering.

"I'd _never _shag a _Weasley_—" he trailed off, as if the horror of it was just beyond words. Draco watched with narrowed eyes. Pansy and Theodore both glanced at each other, shrugging, before turning back to taking notes and dismissing the conversation. Draco grabbed a blank bit of parchment and a quill, dipping it into Blaise's inkwell, before scribbling out a sentence and pushing the paper over towards Blaise.

_What do you think of her? _he had written. Blaise sighed, running his hand through the hair that wasn't constrained by a loose braid. Draco had chosen to hang it free today, taking _far _too long to braid Blaise's hair than was necessary. Of course, they had gotten sidetracked a few times, but still…

_It's hard to say. You've talked with her longer. What's your impression? _Draco scowled in frustration, biting the tip of the quill while he thought of an answer. Draco shoved the paper over to Blaise.

_She's interesting. An enigma, to say the least. Once you get past the name, she's fantastic—she actually has a brain in her head, she's not obsessed with the Dream Team in the least, and she's fucking beautiful. But the catch; she's a Gryffindor, and a Weasley, the worst kind. Every time I start to enjoy myself, I remember that, and it's like a blow to the head. _Draco watched as Blaise's frown deepened as he read the paper before scrawling a reply back.

_Same here. She's the first one that's caught my eye, ever, since you, of course, but I can't get past her name, either. And her name just_ screams _Potter worshipper. _Draco rolled his eyes when he read this, nodding vigorously before replying and pushing the paper back.

_It sounds like a nickname; I think it'd be easier to get past her name if we started calling her by something that isn't "Weasley" or "Ginny." How about you figure out what her real name is, or her middle name, or something, and we can call her that. _Blaise nodded in agreement, writing his reply and giving it back to Draco.

_It'll get past our stupid psychological blocks we've got on her name, and allow us to focus on much more…appealing parts of her. _Draco grinned lecherously after reading this, folding up the paper and dropping it into his bag.

"Are you two done being secretive?" Theodore whispered at them. Exchanging guilty glances, Draco reached into his bag and handed the note off to Theodore, who read it with Pansy leaning over his shoulder. Pansy passed it back to Blaise, who shrunk it to the point that the writing was impossible to decipher, and slipped it into his robes. No chance of anyone finding it there.

"I can't believe you two.\," Pansy murmured incredulously. Theodore just shrugged.

"I agree with them, Pans. The only reason I got past it so easily is because she practically cursed me into it. It's hard to keep on thinking of her as a Weasley when she actually knows as many curses as she does." Pansy nodded.

"I guess you're right. I got past it when she did the Laces Curse on Vaisey—music to my ears, if you ask me." Blaise smirked, shooting a sly glance at Draco.

"Well, come dinner, and it's _my _turn to taste our little pet."

* * *

The rest of the day passed without incident. It was either Pansy or Theo who picked me up from my classes and delivered me safely, and I wasn't sure if I was grateful for that favor or not. On the one hand, I wanted to curse Malfoy until his balls fell off. On the other, I _really _wanted to see if he would do it again. Of course, whenever that treacherous little voice pointed this out, I just got angry all over again. Zabini, well, I was rather indifferent to him, but since he was so much like Malfoy, my mind was subconsciously lumping them together, and I didn't want to have anything to do with him—unless he was going to lick me.

_Bloody hell_, I thought to myself, gouging a hole in the spiral I was drawing instead of my Defense Against the Dark Arts notes. _If I keep on thinking like that, I'm going to go mad. They're _gay,_ you stupid git. _But then I couldn't help but think of what would happen if they _weren't _gay, if they were bisexual, as many of our day and age were wont to do. Now _that _would be heavenly…

"Miss Weasley! _Do _try and pay attention," Professor Fowlson said sternly, glaring down at me in admonishment. I tittered an apology out, before promptly turning back to doodling. I was rather happy he had broken me out of that particular day dream; it wouldn't have turned out good for me otherwise. When class was over, I shoved my things away with barely-restrained joy, before getting a nasty shock as I stopped with my doodle paper half out of my bag.

Tons of little eyes peered at me from my paper, and I felt my stomach flip when I recognized them. They were fairly interspersed, two different pairs of eyes, but otherwise, they were the mostly the same, the only thing that was really differing was their sizes. Malfoy and Zabini's eyes. I scowled, promptly lighting the paper on fire. I was given another scolding, which I ignored, watching the parchment curl upon itself and lose all traces of every being many eyes. _There. At least now I won't get caught with a paper covered in their fucking eyes…_

"Gin!" a voice called into the classroom. "Hurry up and get your slow ass out here!" It was Theodore; and I grinned, quickly gathering up my things and coming out into the hall with flair. I immediately dropped the act when I saw just who was with him. I gave a nod of acknowledgment to Pansy, before stepping forward.

"_You!_" I said hotly, reaching forward and jabbing him in the chest. "You sorry little bastard—" I was cut off by a pair of elegant fingers descending on my lips, and I stared at them incredulously before tracing my way up his arm and to their owner. _Zabini_.

"Now, now, dear, that's no way to talk to my lover," he chided, and I blushed, taking a step back _away _from his soft fingers. I couldn't let them see just how strongly I had reacted to such a simple touch…

"Shove it, Zabini," I snapped, catching up to Theodore and Pansy before they got too far away. I slipped my arms in between theirs, grinning up at them innocently. Theodore snorted, shaking his head, while Pansy just grinned ferally.

"Keep it up, little lion," Pansy advised. Theodore just shook his head.

"No, _don't _keep it up. _We're _the ones that have to deal with them the whole bloody day." Pansy grimaced.

"Good point. Never mind, then; at the first chance you get, hop into bed with them. It'll do us all a favor." I fake gagged, screwing up my face in disgust.

"Are you kidding me? It's _Malfoy _and _Zabini_." I caught Theodore and Pansy rolling their eyes at each other.

"Yes, and I'm _Nott _and she's _Parkinson_ and you're_ Weasley_." Theodore reminded me. "Who the bloody hell cares?" I scowled; he had a point, but I wasn't all that willing to give up years of hatred after only a few days. I only half noticed when the stepped away from me, making my arms fall out of theirs, before I glanced up to find them and _Malfoy _heading down a different staircase.

"Where—" I started, before an arm dropped onto my shoulders, drawing me against a very warm body in a tantalizing embrace.

"Hello, kitten," Zabini purred into my hair while I lost the ability to move, think, or even breathe. "Looks like it's just you and me." When his lovely scent invaded my nostrils and made me start breathing again on reflex, I tore myself out of his arms, glaring at him before stomping down towards the kitchens. I heard his husky laugh from where I had left him, and I clenched my fists to quell the desire to turn back around and snog him senseless. When he fell into stride next to me, I made up my mind to ignore the Slytherin's existence. And not look at him.

Probably because I had just swore to myself to not look at him, I caught myself eyeing him out of the corner of my vision. I then looked forward furiously; I didn't have _any _kind of self control! Gods above, I couldn't _wait _until I got back to Pansy's room and I could just pretend that they didn't exist…since I obviously wasn't able to do it in such close proximity to them.

A warm chuckle broke me out of my dark plotting and I shot a glare at him—but I couldn't stop the curiosity that filtered through my brain. _Damn it all_…

"And what are you laughing at?" I snapped angrily, effectively concealing any kind of interest I might have in his attitude.

"I am laughing at _you_." I huffed indignantly. "Just because you're so amusing to watch. Did you know that whenever you look at me or think about me, your face turns an interesting shade of magenta and you start muttering death threats under your breath?" No, I did_ not _know that, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that as well.

"Yes, I did," I responded airily. "My psychiatrist suggested that a few months back as a stress reliever." I saw him smirk.

"Of course." We had reached the painting, and this time, not to be outdone by either of them, I stretched onto the tips of my toes and tickled the pear before he could get to it. Of course, by his amused smirk that was plastered onto his face as he walked by me and into the kitchens, he knew what I was doing, and probably why, too. I scowled as I followed him into the kitchen to find him already ordering food. I scowled at him petulantly before flouncing over to the same table Malfoy and I had eaten at earlier and dropping my bag beside it. Zabini rejoined me shortly after, a self-satisfied grin well in place.

"What are you so smug about?" I asked suspiciously. A happy Zabini didn't usually bode well for me.

"I've ordered something I know you're going to…enjoy, to say the least." Shooting him another suspicious glare, I turned around to find the house elves already marching forward with the plates on their hands. When I recognized a familiar bowl, I wasn't sure if I wanted to yell at him or thank him. I decided on neither, and promptly dug into my chicken manicotti. It was pretty delicious, and thankfully, I heard no further chatter from Zabini while I focused on ignoring the bowl of fruit that was sitting so dangerously close to me.

Finally, I broke, and I pushed aside the remnants of my dinner and pulled the bowl closer to me. He chuckled again.

"A little birdy told me that you'd enjoy those," he informed me while he watched me with dark eyes as I slowly began my usual ritual. I finished chewing my bite slowly before replying.

"Oh really? And would that little birdy happen to be a gay albino?" I patted myself mentally on the back for a job well done; now I'd see if he was really gay or not, and I'd be able to find out if he was even worth considering or not.

"He's not albino," Zabini said indifferently as he reached for a strawberry. I reached out, lightening fast, and slapped his hand away. He pulled it back to his chest, an injured look coming across his face.

"_Mine_," I growled possessively. He shook his head sadly.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with him desecrating the sacred rules of strawberries, does it?" I looked at him suspiciously. He had already confirmed that they weren't gay—at least, Malfoy wasn't gay. What was he trying to do now? Convince me to—heaven forbid—actually _like _him?

"Maybe," I responded slowly, digging in to my third strawberry with barely concealed rapture. If they kept on feeding me strawberries…well, I might just have to change my opinions of them.

"Still, come on, little lion. _Please _give your friend the snake a bit of the juicy, red, moist…goodness?" I felt my breath come out much more quickly, and I shot him a glare before pushing the bowl over to him, concealing the arousal I had felt at his words. What the hell was my problem? _I bet Malfoy told him, _I thought cynically. _Shared all his little tips with him so he'd be able to do the same to me. _Watching me careful, he bit down delicately on the tip of the strawberry, and I had to grudgingly admit that at least he was decent enough to listen to what Malfoy said on the proper etiquette with strawberries.

Together we finished up the strawberries. For the most part, it was me, since once I hit past the eighth strawberry, and I began devouring them in earnest. When the bowl was only filled with broken bits of green leaves, I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand, leaving a red smear. I grimaced; so I really _had _made a mess of myself. Oh well. It was worth it. Zabini had been patting at his mouth with a white napkin, and I sneered at him. When it came to strawberries, manners just went out the window for me.

I ignored the offered hand that Zabini had given me, giving him a pointed look that said "I know how to get up myself, thank you," before I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the kitchens. He was probably right behind me, but I was rather fed up with him. With _them_, in general. I didn't like how they made me feel—weaker than fucking Potter ever made me feel. It was disconcerting just how quickly they had managed to get under my skin, and if I could help it, I was going to ignore him.

I glanced behind me to see him lost in thought, gently nibbling on his lower lip that was berry stained. I swallowed, quickly turning back around, quite sure that he had heard me.

Well, I'd try and ignore him at least for tonight, since it seemed impossible to go longer than that.

* * *

"He's staring at you again," Theodore noted with no small amount of glee. Pansy looked across the two tables towards Gryffindor table, taking in the glowering green eyes of Potter, before snickering.

"Yeah, he is," she informed Draco. He only scowled more deeply and stabbed his steak in a particularly harsh jab.

"What I wouldn't do to be able to rip his eyes out of his fucking head…" Draco muttered, causing a few first years to look at him in fear and edge sideways, away from him. Theodore encouraged them by casting a quick glamour on his face, and then leering at them with both of his eyes hanging down his face with his lips sewed tightly together, blood dripping, in a version of the Laces Curse. This caused Pansy to start giggling again, especially when one first year shrieked and another fainted. Even Draco looked amused.

"Quality's going down," he commented as he watched one of the first years try and revive the one who had fainted. Theodore nodded, his eyes bobbing up and down and causing blood to drip everywhere, and a few more shrieks entered the din.

"You're right. I don't think we were ever that…skittish," he said solemnly. Pansy sneered at them.

"We_ weren't_. That stupid hat's been letting Hufflepuffs in the house, _again_." This started up a conversation on the other side of them with the older students, who were complaining about the lack of proper Slytherin-ness in the house overall and how they remembered back when _they _cursed anything and everything in sight. Theodore looked over at Gryffindor house, before smiling and waving wildly.

This brought the attention of many of the other houses towards them, and Pansy sniggered wildly as even Potter looked a little green around the gills. Most of the other students shrugged and went back to their dinners, though; this was normal behavior from Theodore Nott, psycho of the Slytherin house. A few of the more frightened first years shrieked as well, but none actually fainted. Pansy shot a disgusted glare towards the one that did, who was just coming around.

"Stupid little bastard…probably got in on a fluke. He's up for some serious shit in the Common room tonight," she commented, and it was true; many of the other Slytherins were looking particularly bloody thirsty upon having found that one of their own had _fainted_.

"When do you think that Potter's going to actually get the nerve up to come over here and ask Drake here what the hell happened to his little punching bag?" Theodore asked, dispelling the glamour with a wave of his wand. He glared over towards Potter, who was starting to look even more uneasy with both Theodore and Pansy's glare faced towards him.

"Probably never. I'm betting that the spineless little shit is going to try and corner you—" she nodded towards Draco, "—in a side hallway, where no one is likely to stumble across you. Or Blaise, or even Gin, but I doubt he'd have the guts to corner Gin with one of us always around her." Draco nodded grimly.

"We can't let her alone in the halls, at least until we can be sure that no one's going to try something stupid. The Dream Team is just the tip of the iceberg; you have to remember that the whole fucking house is on their side. Creevey was only the first. Weasley can protect herself fairly well, but we need to get someone trustworthy into her classes. The only question is _who _it's going to be," Draco mused, his obliterated steak forgotten about for the time being.

"Well, essentially all we need is an ally in each of the houses, excluding Gryffindor, who will stick with her," Pansy expanded. Theodore nodded, finding pleasure in sending lustful glances at a beyond queasy-looking Potter. Pansy snorted when Potter nearly barfed, before hurrying out of the hall. She gave Theodore nod of congratulations on successfully ridding the hall of Potter.

"We can talk to her later. Gin's probably got a few friends that aren't swayed by the Golden Trio, and she'll know who they are—or who can be persuaded." When he said persuaded, he innocently began cracking his knuckles. Draco appraised him with a smirk of approval, before Pansy shook her head at him, scowling.

"I doubt we're going to need to use that to get them to make sure that she doesn't get hurt," she reprimanded. "But…just in case…" She grinned gleefully and started going through a mental list of all the dark spells that would be able to "persuade" their fellow students to look after Ginny.

Draco looked on in amusement; yes, Ginny was definitely going to be safe.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter! I was temporarily blinded (truth!!) by the chemicals in the fake snow when I crashed when I wasn't wearing my goggles. So, I wasn't able to look at any kind of screens without it hurting for the past few days. Also, I got slightly stuck when I did decide to write this. But whatever.

I'll advise you to look out for any upcoming stories from Sinful Harlequin--that would be the joint account of my wicked friend Ami, owner of the Harlequine-Girl profile, and me. So go check out her stuff, and keep an eye out for our stuff. We've got a story in the works that promises to be so fucking awesome your socks will fly off. Of their own accord. ((gasp!))

Review, as well, people. That's what makes the world goes 'round. Speaking of reviews, holy shit, twenty one reviews for one chapter. That's awesome!! Maybe I'll have Draco lick her more often...haha. And review responses in profile, as per usual.

-Rapture


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Thirteen

"Bloody hell," I groaned, collapsing upon Pansy's shoulder as I made it out of my last class, Herbology. Luckily, we hadn't done anything but book work, so I was still relatively clean. Theodore chuckled and patted me on the back sympathetically.

"That bad?" he asked. I groaned again, tossing my bag towards the direction of his voice and burying my head further into the expensive fabric on Pansy's shoulder.

"That bad," Pansy confirmed for me. I raised my tired eyes to glare at Theodore. I probably looked as bad as I felt, so I was rather happy that it helped my image.

"Do you know how many people I've had to curse today—discreetly?" His lovely green eyes filled with concern—and a touch of smug pride—at my words. Probably personally thinks that he's the one responsible for my oh-so-wonderful cursing abilities, I thought cynically to myself.

"Four?" Pansy ventured.

"Five?" Theodore added hopefully. I shook my head, scowling.

"Seven. Seven of the jealous little buggers tried their hand a cursing me." I scuffed my foot angrily against the ground, imagining one of the many people who had attempted to curse me.

"You don't even have seven classes!" Pansy said, shock lacing her voice.

"I know," I muttered, exasperated. "And I didn't even get attacked in one of them!" Theodore swallowed a laugh, and I glared at him, pulling away from Pansy to grab onto his arm in the guise of friendship. With my fingernails biting into his arm, plus holding onto my bag and his, a tiny flicker of discomfort was visibly in his eyes, even though the rest of his face remained stoic.

"Dear Theo, what do you find so amusing?" I purred, tightening my grip on my arm until he was wincing. I glanced at Pansy out of the corner of my eye to see that she was trying not to glare at me, and I hid my self-satisfied smirk. I had seen almost immediately that they had something going on. It was obvious that they wanted it to be more, but both of them were just too bloody stubborn to do anything about it. I was trying to do everything in my power to make them more aware of the blatant attraction to each other, but so far all it had earned me was menacing glares from Pansy.

"Just that you nearly got cursed in three classes," he admitted quickly, hoping for me to retract my nails from the inside of his arm. I scowled, releasing him and stepping back, pouting as we continued further down into the school. By now, all three of us—well, all five of us, if we counted Draco and Blaise, even though they weren't here—had gotten used to avoiding the main hallways to prevent any of us from getting cursed too many times. I was still the main target, but it was only a matter of time before the students realized that it was them who were sheltering me, and they would direct their curses to all of us instead of just me.

Personally, I hoped that they just kept cursing me and me only. I would loathe myself if any harm came to any of my new friends, especially if it was because of me. I knew that eventually they too would come under fire, but I could just hope that most of the Gryffindor house's instructions would be to tear me apart, instead of them. I didn't know how long that was going to last, though; Potter wasn't stupid, however much I thought it was. He would pick up on the fact that it was the Slytherins sheltering me, whether I wanted him to or not.

"Son of a bitch," I growled to myself, suddenly remembering what I had to remember for tonight. Again they turned to me for a run down of more of the woes that plagued me.

"What is it this time?" Theodore asked, exasperated, and I shot him an annoyed look, even though I knew that it must be rather tedious to have to listen to my day-to-day troubles.

"I've got detention with Snape," I muttered angrily. "I wonder how much time I've got left until my death…" Pansy snorted.

"Quit being melodramatic. Detention's going to be fine. Snape's been on our side—that is, the side of the Malfoys, Zabinis, and all other purebloods that chose to align themselves with us during the war—since before any of us were born. The school's been buzzing with the fact that you've been seen with us for a few days now, so no doubt he's already heard." I nodded, knowing what she said was true but still nervous regardless. It was one thing to deal with Pansy and Theo—and Draco and Blaise, to an extent—but the Head of the Snakes himself? A much more daunting thought.

"Yeah, but you've been able to deal with him for seven years, on his good side. I've got six years on his bad side." I frowned, and Theodore slung an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in closer. Again, I glanced at Pansy, and had to stifle the grin I felt on my face; she looked like she was seconds away from cursing me to hell and back. Which was a _good _thing. A few days ago if Pansy had looked at me like that, well, I would have been drawing my wand and joining in happily.

"Ginevra darling, we've been dealing with the old bat for seventeen years." I peered at him suspiciously, and he leaned in closer. "He's my godfather." I blinked; most of the school has suspected that Snape was _Draco's _godfather, not someone else.

"But I thought he was Draco's…?" I trailed off, and Pansy took this opportunity to pull me closer to her. I had to swallow the laughter I felt bubbling up in me at Theodore's expression.

"Nope. Lucius and was far too good when it came to acting and lying, so he believed that Lucius was actually the minion of Voldemort—which he wanted it to seem like, to save his family—and he wasn't willing to befriend someone that was obviously so cruel. Lucius is cruel, that's for sure, and he is for pureblooded supremacy, but as most of us decided, it wasn't worth fighting a losing war over—especially when following a half blood." I nodded; I was already aware of this fact. Thank you, Tom Riddle.

"And Blaise's dad was dead ages ago, anyway. His mum, Vasiliki, bless her little Greek heart, killed them as soon as Voldemort sent them to spy on her. His dad was vaguely tolerable, apparently, and nine months later Blaise popped out. Of course, by then, his father was dead, but that's old news. My dad…well, he wasn't a nice person, as we all know, so Snape didn't trust him either." I gave her a quick squeeze when she faltered on mentioning her dad, and she gave me a small and grateful smile.

"My mum and dad never sided with old Voldy," Theodore said cheerfully, effectively lightening the dark mood. "So Snape naturally befriended us, and he's my godfather. Of course, it's all fine and dandy between him and Lucius, now, but Draco's already got a godfather rotting away somewhere, so he couldn't exactly make him Draco's godfather, too." I nodded at the logic of this.

"But Snape's like a surrogate father to us all, anyway," Pansy added. We were now near the kitchens, and Theodore didn't waste any time in reaching up and tickling the pear. All this talk about Draco and Blaise reminded me that they weren't there with us, which I found somewhat odd. Each and every time that someone picked me up from between classes, one of them was always there. Even if it was Theodore or Pansy, either Draco or Blaise would be there, too.

I was beginning to get slightly suspicious of this, but I didn't want to complain. After all, loathe as I was to admit it, I liked their company _much _more than I probably should.

"Where are they, by the way?" I asked casually, watching while Theodore argued good-naturedly with a house elf. He didn't have a problem causing them issues at all, and right now all the little elves looked like they were about to start committing suicide any time now. Pansy smirked at me, and I glared.

"Miss them?" she drawled slowly. I huffed.

"_No_," I stated emphatically. "One of them is just usually here." I chose to ignore the secretive little smile that she tried to hide.

"They're doing a bit of research." I furrowed my brow; I didn't think they ever had a problem with homework. And then it hit me—the _curse_. I hadn't thought about it in ages, really; it had just slipped my mind in lieu of more major problems. Although that surely had to be a major issue; even though the chances were small, if Potter managed to corner me now without one of my Slytherin protectors, I'd be as good as cat poo.

"_Oh_," I said softly, gazing straight ahead but not really seeing the kitchens. The Power Bind was hard to cast and nearly impossible to reverse. It was going to take a lot to counteract, and I wasn't even sure how to do it. Otherwise, I would have done it by now and murdered Potter instantly. _Obviously_.

"Food's ordered," Theodore informed us, stepping closer. This time, I made sure that he stood closer to Pansy rather than me; it would make them both happier in the long run. I couldn't _wait_ until they finally got over themselves and just had sex.

"Good. If we grab the food, I can probably finish my homework before detention." I still had another hour and a half or so until I needed to be in the Potions room. From there, I had detention for two hours, which was either going to kill me, as I thought, or be pretty fun, as Theodore and Pansy thought. I wasn't willing to put much faith in their words, though, not when it came to Snape.

"Alright, let's go," Theodore said, and I realized that he had already gotten the food put into containers for us to carry back to our rooms. I took the food from him, earning me a grateful smile. After all, he was still carrying my bag.

We made it back to the Slytherin common room without incident, but by now I was getting the slightest bit of suspicion about the complete lack of Potter-ness. I mean, it had been, what, three days since I had last seen him? He had never taken that long to at least see me. Of course, he had also never been nearly killed by Draco before, so that might just be a bit of a deterrent for him. But, still. It was just enough for me to be concerned about.

"Quit looking quite so ponderous," Pansy berated me, interrupting my dark thoughts. "Herbology can't be _that _hard to require thinking, is it?" I shot her a guilty looking, glancing down at my already finished Herbology homework. I had probably finished it about half an hour ago, but I hadn't moved on to any other homework because I simply hadn't been thinking about it.

"Should we ask?" Theodore teased. I rolled my eyes dramatically, flopping sideways.

"If I must tell you," I said in a tone that I basically copied off of Lavender Brown, the little gossiping whore of the school. "It's…this boy. I can't get him out of my thoughts." I giggled girlishly, and Pansy rolled her eyes at my antics, looking even more exasperated when Theodore abandoned his homework to jump on the bed with me.

"Oh,_ do _tell." He, too, was grinning manically.

"Well…" I started, trailing off and watching him lean in closer in interest. I mentally grinned; he was _such _a girl at heart. It was a wonder that Pansy had him for herself after all; if I didn't know any better, I would have thought that he was as gay as Draco and Blaise. But, the looks don't lie…

"Bloody hell!" I nearly shouted, hopping out of the bed lightening-fast and darting for the door. "Detention!" Pansy looked amused and followed quickly, waving for Theodore behind her as she tried to catch up with me. She had the longer legs, but I was faster; if it was a race, I would have beaten her, but I knew I couldn't really_ leave _her, so I slowed down sufficiently so that I was only running through the halls at a fast jog with Pansy next to me. We passed a few students, but they were only Slytherins and they didn't pay attention to us.

Luckily for me, Snape's Potions classroom wasn't that much further from the Slytherin common room, so I made it only a few minutes late. I shot one last glance at Pansy, trying to convey my feelings: "If I die, put some lilies on my grave, will you?" As if reading my thoughts—which was unlikely—she smirked and nodded to me, as if to say "go ahead," and pushed me forward.

Nervously, I turned around, ready to face Snape. I was a Gryffindor—in part, really, but I wasn't bothering with details—and they were brave. I drew on some of that Gryffindor bravery and threw open the door, striding into the classroom with my chin held high. The effect was ruined on Snape, though. All he did was glance up disdainful before turning back to grading papers while I was left to stand foolishly in the middle of the classroom, the door banging shut behind me.

"Are you quite done with your theatrics?" he asked snidely. Bashfully, I sat down on the edge of his desk.

"Sorry 'bout that," I said, busying myself with looking interested with some homework I had grabbed randomly. I scoffed at the person's apparent lack of Potions skill, finding that the person had completely bullshitted the whole assignment; the Forgetfulness Potion didn't inspire forgetfulness; it caused the person to remember things. They had gotten it completely wrong. I glanced at the name scrawled on the top, and dropped it hastily, sneering. Of course _Potter _wouldn't have a clue at how to do Potions.

"Always an adept student, Miss Weasley, it appears that you managed to grab my second-worst student, next to Longbottom," Snape said with obvious contempt. I glanced at him in surprise. Had he just _complimented _me? What a strange thing! Maybe Pansy and Theodore had been right about Snape actually liking me now that I was obviously not a worshipper of Potter. He hadn't minded me before, since I was spectacular at Potions, but I guess this gave him even more reasons to befriend me.

"That's no surprise," I muttered, watching him flourishingly write a red number on it that probably was akin to a negative grade. He spared me a quick quirk of the lips, which I stared at again, before turning back to grading papers.

"I'd like for you to start Amortentia." I felt my eyebrows crawl up my forehead; that potion wasn't exactly a Sixth-year potion. That was well beyond the level at what I should be at—and well beyond the seventh year level, too. I hadn't ever made the potion before, but I did know the basic process for it, so I knew it would be too terribly hard to accomplish.

"The book's over there." He pointed to a book that was out on my usual desk, and I nodded, swinging down and walking over. Turning the pages to the correct one, I peeked up at him. He didn't seem to be overly concerned with what I did, so I was grateful for this. Snape really _did _favor his Slytherins, and I guessed that now I count as one, too.

I soon stopped analyzing things; the potion required a bit more concentration than most of the potions I usually did required. It took most of the detention, and by the time that the part of the potion that I had aimed to complete tonight was done, I had shed my robes and rolled up my sleeves, completely at ease. It was still only slightly disquieting to realize that I was relaxed in _Snape's _presence, before I quickly got over myself and my past prejudices.

"Are you finished with tonight's portion?" Snape asked, standing in front of his desk. The homework was floating on neatly organized piles to the side of him, and even from this distance I could see the blaring red ink of his marking pen, declaring to the room that that person had gotten a failing grade. I smirked evilly; fucking Potter deserved whatever shitty grade that he got.

"Yes, Professor," I replied, grabbing my wand and lifting my cauldron, taking it over to the storage closet. Right now, the potion was a clear liquid, and its smell was nonexistent. But overnight, the potion would darken to a pearly sheen, and its smell would vary to the beholder, but would essentially represent their loves in life. I was only slightly anxious as to what the smell would be for me; I didn't know what I loved.

I was secretly afraid that I wouldn't be able to smell a thing when the potion was finished brewing. I was afraid that whatever Potter had done to me, he had somehow broken me inside and made it so I wouldn't be able to love ever again.

Rather melodramatic, and exaggerated just a bit, but it held a bit of truth.

"Same time tomorrow, then." I nodded, walking back over and grabbing my robe, using my wand to return all the extra potions ingredients to the supply cupboard. He vanished inside of his office, before stepping back into the classroom, minus the homework.

"Miss Weasley, I was wondering just how long you thought you'd be able to hide your presence in my house." I stilled my movements, my mind frantically searching for an excuse. Was he going to tell me to move back to the tower? Because I was pretty sure that I'd probably be killed my first night in there.

"Er…I can explain," I said feebly, my mind still racing to figure out what I was going to tell the Potions Master in order for him to believe me.

"I bet you could, given more time to think of plausible excuse," he remarked, and I flushed bright red. Was I that transparent?

"Sit down, Miss Weasley," he offered, sitting down in a chair. I sat delicately on the edge of my seat, prepared to leap up and run if worst came to worst.

Why I was thinking about fleeing from Snape was beyond me, since all it seemed like he was going to do was interrogate me.

"Professor Snape—" I started, before he held up one pale hand, dark eyes glittering with something that looked like amusement. I was taken aback for a moment, before I realized that had the situation been reversed, I would have been a bit amused, too. Well, maybe not _that_ amused, since the situation, as it was, wasn't exactly comedian material.

"Please, do spare me the lie and get on with the real story." At my reluctance, he added, "I've got the Veritaserum in my office, if you'd like some persuasion, Miss Weasley." I scowled at him indignantly; that wasn't exactly legal. But then again, I wasn't sure if staying in a house that wasn't your own was legal, either. Knowing my luck, I probably was standing on pretty unstable ground when it came to legal matters.

"I've been having a bit of trouble with my own house of present, sir," I said vaguely, adding on the "sir" to see if I could get away with using such a lame excuse. He arched an eyebrow.

"'A bit of trouble,' you say? Is that why you've managed to curse eleven students in two days?" I drew myself to my full height—or as high as I was going to get, sitting down and vertically challenged—and glared at him.

"Actually, Professor, it's _I _who's been cursed, not the other way around." His other eyebrow joined the first to form a look of incredulity.

"So, I take it that's why you're perfectly normal, serving detention, while the others have been to the Hospital Wing—and in the case of four, are still recuperating?" I nodded stiffly.

"It's not _my _fault this school doesn't know how to teach them how to curse properly," I sniffed. "Or cast the right protective charms, either." Surprisingly, instead of berating me and loading even more detentions on me, he grinned.

"Excellent work, Weasley. That you haven't been caught in the act is a sign of genius." I smirked in response, relaxing in the chair.

"Well, sir, I _have _been hanging out with Draco, Blaise, Theodore, and Pansy…" He smiled knowingly.

"You can't go wrong there, Miss Weasley. I personally do not have an issue with staying in my house, so if the prefects approve it—as they obviously do—you are free to remain there. However, if you chose to stay there for a longer amount of time than you have thus far, I think it would be better if I gave you a more permanent residence than an attachment to Miss Parkinson's room." I nodded, my mind spinning. Snape was _offering _to give me a room in Slytherin House. I surreptitiously pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

"Yes, Professor. I'm not sure how much longer I will remain with Pansy, but I will be sure to let you know if I'll be needing more permanent residence." We both stood, and he nodded in dismissal.

"Watch your back, Miss Weasley," he advised, halfway inside his office. "You've made many enemies by making a few friends." I nodded, before stepping out into the hallway.

I looked around, but I couldn't find anyone. Apparently my honor guard hadn't made it yet. Remembering where Pansy and Theodore had said Draco and Blaise were, I headed up into the school, rather than back down into the dungeons.

Snape accepting me had been something I hadn't predicted upon happening. It definitely was strange to have him acting towards me like I was one of his Slytherins, since he usually absolutely loathed us Gryffindors, but apparently he was ready to take exception when it came to me. I was, after all, one of his better students, so that was understandable, but still…him completely ignoring years of the division between the two houses just because some of his students had decided to befriend me? It was unheard of.

Then again, the Fearsome Foursome befriending a poor Gryffindor was unheard of as well. Hell, they hardly talked to anyone outside of their house. It was almost against nature, the way they befriended me.

I glanced up when I noticed a significant lack of light in the hall, and felt my insides turn cold. The hall was dark now, too dark for a normal Hogwarts night—plus, I was in the upper part of the school, unaccompanied. I wasn't that afraid of being alone, but with the Power Bind still on me…well, if Potter found me now, I was more or less fucked. Leaning a bit on the more side.

I judged my surroundings, and quickly figured out the chances that I had. The probability that Draco and Blaise were still in the library was small; it was extremely idiotic for me to try and hunt them down. But now, I was standing near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom—on the second floor, in between the fourth floor, where the library was, and the dungeons. I basically had a fair chance of getting there, either way.

But, if Draco and Blaise weren't in the library, then I'd have to go even farther to get back down to the dungeons and back to the common room. Maybe I should just go back down to the dungeons…

I turned around, and abruptly froze, almost as if I had been cemented to the spot. Standing in the shadows, his profile only vaguely visibly, was a figure that I recognized all too well—with about seven others ranging in size behind him. Dread crept into the pit of my stomach.

"Out for a bit of a walk, Ginny?"

* * *

A/N: Oh my gawd. I'm sosososo unbelievably sorry about this late update! I feel so guilty. Etc, etc. I sent out a guilty apology PM to many people, and I'm happy to those that got it and responded. If you'd like to receive it as well, in case I do send more updates, please either leave a note in your review or send a PM.

Back a while ago I said that I'd post pertinent questions, so here are two that I believe should be put up for the general public:

Q: If Draco and Blaise are so in love, why bother with Ginny?

A: Ginny is the first one that's mutually interested both of them, so they're kind of exploring their options right now. And exploring their options means testing the waters with her.

Q: What's up with the difference in how Ginny treated Draco and Blaise? Does she just like Blaise less or something?

A: So she was with Blaise after the whole Draco licking episode, and she's kind of resolved herself to ignore them, since she knows that the attraction that she feels is a bit dangerous. So she was a bit colder and a bit bitchier to Blaise than she was to Draco.

I hope that cleared a bit up for people that were wondering. I'm working hard on updating my other stories, so wait a bit. A three day weekend, so that should give me some time. Review, please, and check out the review replies to the people that did review. :D

-Roma


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Fourteen

"_Out for a walk, Ginny?" _Once I was over the shock, I grabbed for my wand. I didn't see Potter in the mix, even though I fully recognized the boy in front. Dean Thomas. He was my ex-boyfriend, and one of the boys that Potter had explicitly told me to avoid. The dark skinned boy was standing in front of the others, but even in the dim darkness of night, I could tell that none of them were part of the infamous Golden Trio.

Another figure stepped closer to Dean: Vaisey. I was only slightly surprised to see him hanging around a pack of Gryffindors; after all, they had all probably decided to join forces against a common enemy. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend" and all that rot. He sneered, and I aimed my wand at him, judging him to be the greater threat.

"What do you want, Dean?" I asked him cautiously, glad to find that my voice came out unwavering and firm. Vaisey was the one who answered.

"Giving you what Gryffin-whores deserve," he snapped at me, and low chuckles came from the ones behind him. This could either go two ways: one, they could try and rape me, which I had gleaned from his "Gryffin-whores" insult, or two, I could just get beaten up.

The idea of being raped, again, filled me with an icy fear that clutched at my heart. And just when I had thought I had escaped the chances of that ever happening again…

I noticed with a bit of calculating consideration when I realized that Dean hadn't laughed, or even look amused. Maybe he wasn't exactly on the other side…

"You _do _know what I'm capable of doing, right?" I asked quietly, stalling for time. "Or did you neglect to mention to your lackeys that I cast the Laces Curse on you, only yesterday?" His face darkened, and I was prepared to start cursing him—with the Laces Curse, too, since I found that kind of dark irony amusing—when another figure stepped forward, dropping a heavy hand on Vaisey's shoulder. Vaisey nearly whirled around, instead choosing to swipe the hand off his shoulder and glaring icily. Creevey sneered at me briefly before turning back to Vaisey.

"Get yourself together, snake," he snapped coldly. "She's baiting you. Quit wasting time. If we're going to do this, let's do it before Filch gets here." I scowled. Why did someone have to have a voice of reason? Vaisey looked like he was on the verge of snarling, but instead he just turned back to me.

"Alright, Weasley—"

"Quit bloody talking to her and let's _do _this thing!" Someone hissed angrily. Nearly everyone turned to find out who had spoken—it turned out to be Jack Sloper, beater for Gryffindor—but I was too busy watching Dean. He had his wand pointed discreetly down the hall that led towards the dungeons, and as I watched, a white light flickered out of the tip, before shooting down the wall so fast that if I hadn't been watching, I would have put it down as my vision going screwy.

He looked up and caught me looking, before winking. My mind whirled at what this was; was he on my side? Was that what he was showing me by winking? And the white light—what was that? There weren't many spells that used white light, and I couldn't name any off the top of my head. I was pretty sure that it was something good, though, if it was white.

"I've got practice tomorrow, and if we're not going to do something about the Weasley bitch, I'm going back to bed!" Sloper finished, and I remembered that Vaisey still looked seconds away from attempting to rip my head off with his hands.

"Maybe we shouldn't..." Dean said slowly, and I realized that he was stalling for time. I stifled the triumphant smirk that I wanted to allow to spread across my face, opting instead to look half fearful and half fear-inspiring. An odd combination, but I was pretty sure that I made it work for me.

"What do you mean, Thomas? Lose your balls?" Vaisey taunted. Although it wouldn't be good if Dean actually got hurt, it was also turning their attention away from me. _Divide and conquer_, I thought to myself. Now, if Dean was smart, he'd put more of them against each other...

"Just think about it," he said instead, speaking to the rest of the boys, which were mostly sixth and fifth year boys. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Seamus Finnegan wasn't present. Maybe he wasn't that interested in having a piece of me, either. Apparently I had more allies in the seventh year boys that I had thought...

"Weasley knows dark spells; there's no getting around it. I doubt that any of us are going to know the counter-curses, so how are we going to explain ourselves to Pomfrey? Besides the fact that we can get caught dueling—if you could call it that—and get expelled, or have detentions each night until we graduate. And what happens when her brothers get wind of this? Not Ron, since we know he doesn't give two shits, but her other brothers? That's five very angry, very inventive Weasley men that would be after our blood. Do you want to bring that evil down upon us?"

I had to suppress a snort at the image this presented. Dean had brought up good points, and I was hoping that they would see reason. But it looked like it was only pissing Vaisey off further, and the other Gryffindors were looking divided, trying to choose between helping their Boy Wonder and Vaisey or the quiet seventh year they hardly ever heard talk. It wasn't looking good for Dean.

"If you want to be a fucking nancy boy, Thomas, then get the hell out of here," Creevey said coldly, taking a menacing step towards the taller boy. "It just means that there's more of her to go around." Another round of low chuckles swept through the assembled boys. It was disgusting. Who would have known that so many Gryffindor boys would have loved to get off to violence? Not very noble, if you ask me.

But at least I had one knight in shining armor present.

"It's wrong," Dean insisted. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his so obviously innocent tone. The guy had better know how to defend himself, or it was going to be just me trying to take down all six of them. "You can't just try and _force _her." He had a point—a rather significant one, if you asked me (which they didn't)—but his bravery and nobleness was only going to get him cursed.

"And you think you're going to stop us?" Vaisey asked quietly, his own wand drawn in a flash. Dean's wand quickly followed, until both were staring each other down, pointing wands at each other. The tension rose to insurmountable heights, until I was positive that one of the fifth years was just going to lose it and randomly spit out a curse.

"Yes," Dean responded just as quietly, so low that I almost missed it. The sudden noise in the silence startled a few of the boys, and one of them let out a muffled kind of yelp. But I ignored that in favor of the macho standoff that was going on right in front of me. "I can't let you hurt her." Again, I nearly snorted at this token response. I then realized that this was going to end in a fight either way—why not let it be me that started it?

The Laces Curse was the first thing I fired off, and at Vaisey. His scream of agony was stifled by his lips being sewn together, and I dove out of the way of a scarlet beam of light, probably a stunning spell from one of the Gryffindors, as the hall erupted into chaos._ Bloody uneducated bastards, _I thought to myself. _Wouldn't know a dark spell if it knocked them on their ass and pulled out their spleen. _

The whispered spells were flying everywhere, the hallway illuminated by the bright lights and giving it a club-like atmosphere. I had to find Dean, before he was cursed. Crouching on the floor and occasionally dodging to the side and out of the way, I tried to spot the tall boy. Someone who looked suspiciously like him was grappling with a smaller figure, and I stood up, darting towards him.

One of the boys reached for me, but I bit out a vicious spell that had him spinning away, screaming. I cast a quick silencing spell after him; it wouldn't do good to get caught in a fight after hours. It would be even worse if the reason for our detection was someone as mentally challenged as Sloper.

I reached Dean just as he knocked out the other boy, and I grabbed onto his arm. He whirled around, and almost punched me too, until he saw my scarlet hair that was probably shining like a beacon. I tugged him to the ground to create a smaller target.

"Wand?" I asked him quickly, blinding a sixth year and then watching him run into a wall, effectively knocking himself out.

"Knocked away," he answered shortly, throwing himself at me and pushing me to the ground and out of the path of a spell. We rolled a few feet away, before he helped me back up. "I got Creevey."

"Sloper, Vaisey, and a sixth year," I said shortly, casting Antonin Dolohov's Curse on one of the remaining boys. I cast a silencing charm on him when the screams started pouring out of his mouth as quickly as the blood did. "And a fifth year."

"Two left," he said grimly, before diving towards the remaining two boys. But together, the boys turned out to be a bigger challenge than just Creevey had been, and they began to grapple, wands missing as they threw each other into walls.

Suddenly I was dragged backwards, my wand knocked out of my hand and my hair pulled tightly as my attacker yanked me back and away from the three fighting boys. A hand was firmly clutched around my mouth, effectively clamping down on any movement that I might have wanted to achieve or any cries for help, and my head was pulled at an odd and uncomfortable angle because of the grip that he—I knew it was a he since the hand on my mouth was so bloody large that it covered nearly half of my face—had on it.

"Finally got you alone, Weasley," an oily voice purred into my ear, and I let out an involuntary whimper as I was thrown into a wall, my head hitting the stone so hard I saw stars as an equally hard body pressed against my body, pinning me to the wall. It was Vaisey. Vaisey had somehow gotten rid of the Laces Curse, and now had me pinned and at his mercy.

"Not so brave when you've got no wand and no one to help you, are you?" he sneered, before leaning down, his one hand wrapping around the side of my head and holding my head in place and the other pinning my hands between our bodies. He pressed his vile lips to mine harshly, using more teeth than lips and nearly ripping off my own lips. It was so reminiscent of what Potter used to do to me that I felt tears prick my eyes as I struggled uselessly, trying to escape him.

_Not again, not again, not again…_was the mantra that ran through my head. When he shoved his tongue unwelcome into my mouth, I found my chance and bit down hard on the tip of it. His blood poured into my mouth as he quickly withdrew his tongue with a yell, and before I knew it, my mouth was filling with my blood as well, my cheek stinging and the side of my face pressed against the cool stone.

Dimly, I was aware that he was swearing at me through his injured tongue, blood and spittle flying on the side of my face, but I was gone. Mentally detached from the situation; it was a tactic that I had used the most often and perfected it with meditation. I wouldn't feel it physically, and it was almost as good as being unconscious.

I rejoined my body when I found myself cradled in an embrace as far from the one that I had been in with Vaisey as you could get. Someone was murmuring things into my hair—Italian, it sounded like—but I couldn't make heads or tails of it.

"Speak English, you half-wit, I didn't get hit _that _hard," I murmured to the person holding me. They stopped, and abruptly laughed. I opened my eyes and found my vision obscured by silvery blonde hair, and realized with a jolt that it was Draco. I wriggled around a bit more until I could determine that he was peering down at me with a crooked sort of smirk on his face, and then I leaned in and hugged him tightly, pressing my face against the soft fabric of his shirt.

I inhaled deeply, finding a small smile spread across my face when his distinctive cologne consumed my senses. I was content to just sit there, my arms wrapped around his waist, burrowed tightly in his embrace, but that was an impossibility. Sooner than I would have wanted, my mind reminded me that this was _Draco Malfoy _that I was cuddling up with.

I then mentally scoffed and dismissed the voice; he and Blaise were probably the ones who had saved me from Vaisey, and besides, I _liked_ snuggling up with Draco. I should probably do it more often, since he had already proven that he wasn't exactly opposed to the idea either…

Scandalized at my thoughts, I nearly sprung out of his lap. At his curious expression, I nearly leapt back into his embrace right then and there. He couldn't have looked more edible if he had tried. His hair was mussed, as if he had been tugging on it frequently, and cast around his shoulders like a glowing mantle. His head was slightly cocked, grey eyes inquisitive as if wondering about the reason why I had so abruptly abandoned him. I searched for a plausible reason.

"Blaise?" I asked quietly. He pointed somewhere behind me, and I found Blaise pointing his wand at Dean's heart. It sounded like he was whispering death threats to the boy, so I quickly walked forward to intervene. After all, it wouldn't be good at all to have my two knights in not-so-shining armor killing my other knight in shining armor.

"Blaise, stop," I said, tugging on his sleeve like I used to do to my father to get his attention. As soon as I realized this, I stopped. Last time I had done that to my father, I had been six. My reputation—what little of it there was—would be ruined if I went around acting like a six-year-old. Not that hanging around with Slytherins wasn't already ruining my supposedly lily white reputation, but I didn't need to be digging the grave any deeper.

"Dean helped me. He tried convincing them to stop." Blaise scoffed.

"Looks like he did a _wonderful _job at that."

"And how—" Dean started.

"_You _don't get to say a word, half-blood," Blaise snapped, effectively cutting Dean off. The Gryffindor glared sullenly at Blaise, before turning to me with pleading eyes that seemed to say, "_You _try to reason with him."

"How did you guys get here?" I asked, my mind lighting on a brief bit of evidence that might help Dean's case. I felt an arm snake around my waist, and I was tugged into a warm embrace—Draco. He was probably doing it just for Dean's benefit, but I didn't mind leaning into his warmth. Blaise's free hand reached for mine, and I couldn't help but surrender it, entwining my fingers with his.

I watched Dean's eyes flicker from Draco's arm around my waist and Blaise's hand wrapped around mind, and I could almost visibly see him connecting the dots. It wasn't as if there was anything going on between us—_If only there was_, a traitorous voice whispered in my head, before I stomped that down viciously—but he could see that they cared about me enough to massacre him right then and there and not even bat an eyelash.

I wasn't quite sure where this willingness to defend me came from, but I wasn't complaining. It was curious, though, almost as if they now considered me as someone they should protect, like Pansy or Theodore. I had a suspicion that it came from the whole Potter thing, finding me in a similar situation to what Pansy used to be in.

"We were alerted by someone's spell," Blaise said shortly. I nodded decisively.

"I didn't cast that spell. I saw Dean cast a spell, and then he winked at me, before defending me in front of all those bloody wankers." While Blaise and Draco pondered this new bit of information, Dean took the opportunity to further his defense.

"I couldn't dissuade them from hunting you down, since one of them overheard you talking about having detention tonight, but I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't be hurt. That's why I was with them, in the hopes that if they did run into you, they wouldn't be able to do any damage." There was a pregnant pause as both Dean and I waited for Blaise and Draco to make up their minds, and I saw Dean let out an audible sigh of relief when Blaise lowered his wand.

"Thanks, mate. Didn't fancy myself being skewered like what you did to Vaisey," Dean said, smiling. Blaise gave an imperceptible nod. I nearly grinned when I realized what was going on. Blaise and Draco didn't like Dean at all since he was half-blood, but since he had tried to help me, that made him alright in their books. Or, at least tolerable.

"What did you do to Vaisey?" I asked curiously. I felt Draco shrug.

"Nothing much. Just pulled out his femur." I blanched. They did _what_?

"And then we helped him put it back in—too bad we forgot which leg it came out of," Blaise finished casually. Oh, how disgusting. But…I wasn't exactly against that kind of violence when it came to Vaisey, especially if it was as inventive as sticking his femur in the wrong leg.

I looked down at my hands and found them smeared with blood—probably mine and Vaisey's. A queasy type of feeling settled into the pit of my stomach when I realized just how close I had come to being raped, again.

"Can I get to a bathroom so I can get some of this blood off of me?" I asked softly. No doubt I had blood caked on my face, too; I probably looked a complete and utter mess. My first reason for wanting to clean up was just so I could get the taint that was called Vaisey off of me—and the other reason was purely vanity. I didn't like Draco or Blaise seeing me when I looked so completely trashed, and a sink and water would be the one thing that would be able to save my appearances.

"Of course," Blaise told me, beginning to tug Draco and I down the hall.

"The only bathroom on this floor is Myrtle's bathroom, though," I reminded them. "I'm not too particularly found of being blubbered on."

"The girls aren't the only ones that have a bathroom on this floor," Draco reminded me with a smirk. I grinned hesitantly in response. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that I would be in a boy's bathroom, but it would be a first time with having three boys waiting for me outside of their own bathroom. Talk about strange.

"Here we are," Dean declared as we stopped outside of empty doorway. I always had thought that it was a strange fluke that the founders had made when building the school that the bathrooms on this floor didn't have proper doors—just a small and winding hallway before you got to the bathroom that successfully blocked whoever was doing their business from being seen by pervy students.

Draco and Blaise both shot Dean a glare that had him immediately shrinking backwards. I rolled my eyes. Stupid boys. Even though they tolerated him, they didn't quite like him talking that much at all.

"We'll wait for you outside," Blaise told me as I slipped out of Draco's arm and released Blaise's hand. I gave them a small smile before getting into the actual bathroom.

I was disappointed to find that it wasn't any different from the girl's bathroom, unless you counted the row of urinals that replaced where a row of toilets would be. On one wall was a few toilets, and then across from the row of urinals there was a row of decrepit-looking sinks. I guess I had been hoping that it would be significantly different from the girl's bathroom somehow—maybe a sign that broadcasted "GET YOUR PORNOS HERE—SEE JOHN DOE OF RAVENCLAW" or something racy like that.

Then again…I walked towards the stalls against the far wall, braving my senses for higher enlightenment. As soon as I entered the first stall…jackpot. Grinning to myself, I read the graffiti that had been so painstakingly etched there by the boys of Hogwarts. I found an entire wall dedicated to "10 GIRLS WE LOVE," repeated year after year starting with '76, with comments next to each name. Lucy Bradshaw was given the title of being the "Best Fuck of 1983," and, in more recent years, Parvati Patil had been dubbed "Easiest Lay of 1997."

On other walls were proclamations of sexual prowess, and then just typical grouching about certain professors and their need to get laid—for the most part, those kind of comments were directed towards either McGonagall or Snape. There were also general complaints about life itself—how the "man" was "keeping them down." Many of the comments also had illustrations; I chuckled to myself when I found a crudely-drawn stick figure of McGonagall with an enormous stick up her ass, and had to admit that this was quite true.

What unnerved me, though, was when I closed to door and found on the back a huge eye. Drawn in detail and colored so well that it looked lifelike, someone had decided to charm it so it blinked and looked around. As soon as it caught sight of me, it fasted its singular pupil on me and wouldn't look away, following my every movement. Unnerved, I opened the door and hastily scurried out of the bathroom. We didn't have anything _that _creepy in our bathrooms.

Curiosity sufficiently satisfied, I walked over to the sink and turned it on. Looking into the smudged and cracked mirror, I found myself looking extremely pale, with blood splatters all across my face and neck. I put the water onto as hot as I could stand it, scalding off the blood that was on my hands before leaning down and splashing my face, scrubbing the blood off.

I paused for a moment, water dripping off my face as I leaned my elbows on the sink, just breathing and simply not thinking. My mind was only blank for a moment or two—soon, thoughts were flowing through my head. And they all mainly boiled down to "What the _fuck _were you thinking, Ginevra?"

I should have waited for someone to come and pick me up after detention. I hadn't been alone for the past few days, so it should have been obvious that as soon as I was alone, someone would try and take advantage of the situation. And with an entire house out to get me—not to mention about half of the other houses—it should have been beyond clear to me that someone would try and get me.

_You could have avoided this all if you hadn't been so bloody impatient_, I berated myself. Sighing, I splashed more water on my face. The past was past. There was no way I would be able to correct my monumental error, but at least it hadn't turned out too bad. Actually, it had turned out pretty good; now we knew that the Lion's Den wasn't quite so one-minded as we had thought.

I looked up, water dripping from my pale face, and instantly locked onto another face that shouldn't have been there, pale and scarred and grinning insanely. My grip on the sink tightened and I whirled, hoping that it was only a trick of the mirror, a cruel trick that the bathroom had decided to pull on me for trespassing.

But no, it wasn't an illusion, _he _was there, inches away from me and his want pointing directly at my heart that was pounding like a waterfall in my ears.

"Fancy meeting you here, my little Gin-bug."

* * *

A/N: Late update, again. I guess start expecting these kind of things. ((sigh)) Okay, this is going to be a big author-note...

Special thanks to **mell8 **and her wonderful inspiration-ness. She helped me get all my chickens in a row (is that the right saying?) and all that good stuff. Go check out her stories; they're wonderful, too.

I may have slightly stolen ideas from the reviewers who realized that "OMG, it's Potter!" at the end of Thirteen--so, to mix it up, I had to change it. And I took ideas from **K'onix **who actually suggested that it might be Vaisey, and a few others that alerted me to the fact that I was being predictable. If it's illegal, well, sorry.

**Motherclucker **also found a mistake in my etranslator dot com Italian in Three; thank him/her for that correction.

Questions!

Q: Does the Power Bind prevent indirect magic? Like, could Ginny _Wingardium Leviosa _a piano and drop it on Potter? And she could cast spells on herself, right? Like a spell to make herself unnoticable, or a shield spell or something? --courtesy of **Pasht**

A: a) No, Ginny cannot levitate a piano above Potter and drop it on him. However indirect, it would have harmed in--so a shield or something would have blocked him and the piano would crash on the next closest person/thing. But, that would be wicked cool to see a piano dropping onto him. b) Undetectable could work. It's called a Disillusionment Charm. It would make her slightly invisible to Potter. You can see more about it in the Wikipedia article on Harry Potter Spells. c) She could cast a _Protego _on herself, sure, but it wouldn't do anything against Potter. His spells would still be able to get through.

Q: Why had the school suspected that Snape was Draco's grandfather? Was that a typo, or does Hogwarts as a whole think that Snape is really old and somehow passes on blond haired, grey eyed genes? --courtesy of the lovely **Hydra27 **

A: Er, yes, that would be a typo. A rather unfortunate one, really; Snape is definitely NOT Draco's grandfather. Think of how weird that would be!!

Random tidbit of information: I listened to a Hurt album the entire time I wrote this chapter.

IMPORTANT: Okay, so, since you wonderful people are all coming out of the woodwork and deciding to review (so bloody awesome!! Thank you!!), it's taking me about two hours to get through all the reviews. Which is essentially two hours of time that you could be reading the new chapter, since I tend to do the responses once I'm finished with it. So, would you guys be opposed to me switching over to the actual reply system they've got hooked up? You'd get the replies much faster (since I'd do that when I'm procrastinating), and for the Anonymous people I'd just continue to put it in my profile. Would that be better? I might just change it anyway, but I'd like to have opinions on this.

Read the review replies on my page!

So sorry for the long note. Don't kill me; kill Potter! I'll be giving away (imaginary!) Potter-shaped balloons to all that review, so take out your anger on them! Review, please?

-Roma


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Fifteen

Dean's nervous twitch picked up as soon as Ginevra left them. Draco noted it with no small amount of scorn. He had every right to be scared of them—that was for sure—because although he may have gained the trust of Ginevra, he had yet to gain the trust of Draco and Blaise.

"So, Thomas, I'd like to know what exactly compelled you to stand against seven years of tradition," Blaise began smoothly, casually walking around the Gryffindor with all the lethal grace and fluidity of a jungle cat. Draco's eyes flickered from Thomas' to Blaise's to confirm that they had effectively blocked off all points of escape before narrowing in on the darker boy dangerously.

"As I said before, I didn't want Ginny hurt," Thomas responded cautiously, angling his body so he could keep sight of both of the Slytherins. Draco also noted this with surprise. Usually, when they used their method of dual cornering, their target recognized that they were panicking, but most often didn't pinpoint the source of that panic, much less move into a position to decrease it.

"That can't be all of it," Draco said, his voice dragging out the monosyllabic words in a sensual purr. "You must have wanted something in return. Money? Protection? Our gratitude?" he sneered sarcastically.

"You might be a Gryffindor, but we know that your desires can be…less than pure," Blaise added in dulcet tones. Thomas looked indignant, glaring at them both.

"Honestly, just because you snakes only do things when you want something doesn't mean that everyone else in this bloody castle does too," he said sharply as Draco's eyes narrowed.

"So you did it, as you say, because it was 'wrong' to stand by and watch them rape her?" he questioned coldly. A strange desire to walk back down the hall where Vaisey lay and cause the so-called Slytherin to rupture a few internal organs sprang forth into his mind before he hastily shoved it out just as quickly. Not that violent urges were uncommon to him; he was just still trying to get used to thinking them in juxtaposition with a Weasley, of all people.

_Not Weasley, not anymore, _Draco amended absently. _Ginevra. Just Ginevra. _

"Why is it so hard to understand that someone besides you two—or four, counting Nott and Parkinson—want to have something to do with protecting Ginny?" Thomas sighed, exasperated and raised his hand up to tug on one of his dark dreadlocks impatiently. When he realized that this angle wasn't helping his argument, he switched gears.

"Let's say that Luna Lovegood isn't straight," Thomas threw out there, causing Blaise to quirk his eyebrow as if doubting the relevancy of such a statement. "Would you want Luna Lovegood—the same Luna Lovegood who's been friends with Ginny since first year, even through that mess with the chamber; the same Luna Lovegood who's _always _been on Ginny's side, despite what other people say; the same Luna Lovegood who's taken detentions for Ginny—would you want her to hang around with Ginny?"

Both Slytherins stiffened at such an image, and Thomas let out a low chuckle.

"_Now _you see what I'm getting at. You snaky bastards are bloody paranoid. Let me assure you that any intentions I have towards Ginny are as honorable as…bloody hell, I don't have much left to compare to, do I, with my whole house gone around the bend. Let's just say that I'm already taken and he most _assuredly _isn't a redhead with the first name of Ginny."

While Draco and Blaise sank into a brooding silence at such a revelation, contemplating what Dean had just pointed out to them, he went with a sigh towards the entrance to the bathroom, plopping to the ground and tugging on his longer dreads wearily.

"I should be getting paid for this," he muttered, watching as Blaise and Draco closed the gap between each other so they faced off. It was silent, all except for the slight sound of the tap coming from the bathroom. Curious, he watched as they linked hands, a fair distance apart and only joined together by their hands. He grinned a bit at the imagery that was being presented here—all sorts of light and dark conclusions could be drawn from such a joining as theirs, if one sought to prove such. Instead, Dean just shrugged and closed his eyes.

"For the record, I'm pretty positive that Luna's straight, either that or asexual. Whichever one she is doesn't matter but it does leave the path clear for you two, if you choose to follow through on it," Dean commented with his eyes closed, wondering if he was also going mental. After all, you didn't just go proposing to the two people that almost killed you that they were free to simultaneously pounce on the fresh meat that was your ex-girlfriend.

He was also pretty sure that you didn't go around making curious metaphors involving cats and meat when referring to Slytherins and pondered if he should go get his head checked with Pomfrey.

Blaise unconsciously shifted closer to Draco at the mere mention that the path to _their _Ginevra had been even remotely blocked. Nearly growling, he glared at Thomas sitting on the ground, and knew by Draco's tightened grip on his hand that he was doing the exact same thing. How _dare _he suggest that someone would stand between Ginevra and them!

It was with a sudden lurch that he realized that he was acting as if Ginevra was already with them. In a way, she was, but they had _never _reacted this way to anything concerning Pansy. Guiltily, Blaise pulled away from Draco, feeling an uncharacteristic pink flush spreading across his cheeks and, embarrassed, he locked gazes with Draco and found a not-so-familiar pink tint on his lover's cheeks. He only had to look once at the grinning face of Thomas for his face to break out in a scowl once again.

"Thomas," Draco growled out, his clear declaration of his embarrassment spreading to the tips of his ears, which Draco's pushed-back hair currently revealed. Thomas spread his hands out to show that he was unarmed.

"Relax. It's not obvious; trust me. Well…" He cocked his head, pondering. "Not _too _obvious, I guess. Most people think that you're just going to use her and abuse her."

Dean barely had time to blink before both wands were inches away from his face. Alarmed, he looked up to find that all traces of embarrassment had vanished, replaced with unrestrained fury on two perfect ivory faces.

"I didn't mean it that way!" Dean was quick to amend. He could only assume that they were enraged about the "abuse" comment, since both had come from Death Eater families.

"Oh, and what way _did _you mean it in?" Blaise asked in a honey-sweet voice.

"I…I was just saying that most of the school didn't think that you were—are—_really _interested in her." He tried to make them pull back their anger, but it didn't work. Rather, an ominous glint crept into Draco's eyes.

"Your wand, Thomas. Where did you get your wand?" he asked lightly, his own midnight wand clutched in a tight hand.

"Why, Ollivander's, of course—" he started, before his eyes widened fractionally as he realized what Draco was really getting at. "—oh. Seamus got it for me out of that bloody Vanishing Cabinet. I assume that Ginny's the one that put it in there?" A jerky twitch from Draco was all that Dean received, and he properly concluded that that was to be considered as a nod of affirmation. "I only ripped her bag to save face. Better to hurt her bag than hurt her, and it was far too early to go against Harry. Now, though…I couldn't let them attack her and get away with it."

Blaise sighed, lowering his ivory wand in favor of stepping away from Thomas.

"Il mio amore, come on. I think we might have honestly found a semi-decent Gryffindor." A perplexed look crossed Dean's face while Draco lowered his dark wand. ((my love))

"What are you talking about? Isn't Ginny a Gryffindor, too?" At the expressionless look shared between Draco and Blaise, Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and quickly recognized that fact that that topic was one that he was sure to never understand, before going to his feet and straightening his robes. Draco and Blaise watched impassively, the consistent running of water out of the tap in the bathroom the only sound.

"I think it would be best that you get your things out of your tower," Draco commented finally.

"And whoever your boyfriend is, you might want to get him out, too," Blaise added as an afterthought. Dean nodded, patting his pockets and then stopping when he remembered that his wand had been dropped on the floor.

"_Accio Thomas' Wand!_" Blaise called softly and waited a few moments before snatching the zooming wand out of the air and tossing it casually to Dean.

"Thanks, mate," Dean told him gratefully. "I'm going to take Seamus with me up to the Room of Requirement; I don't think anyone uses it anymore, and we should be able to live there for a while, at least until we have a more permanent place to stay. The tower's definitely out of the question; Potter'll know by tomorrow that I was one of the ones to stand up against his little death squad."

"Contact us if you have any problems," Blaise said suddenly, surprising Draco. "Gryffindor or not, you're one of the few that we can trust right now." Nearly awed at this high honor, Dean nodded, shooting them another grateful look before heading off down the corridor towards Gryffindor tower.

Draco sighed, going to where Dean had just been previously and leaning up against the cool stone while Blaise mirrored him a half second later. The water was still pouring in the bathroom.

"Per quanto tempo lei pensa che porterà?" Draco asked, pointing his thumb towards the entrance to the bathroom before folding his arms once again. Blaise shrugged. ((How long do you think she's going to take?))

"Non so. L'ultima volta, non ha avuto che qualunque tempo per realizzare ciò che era successo, poiché si era così stancata dal guarire. Inoltre, l'aveva fatto già per le età. Adesso, tuttavia, ha avuto pochi giorni lontano da lui, e realizza che è ama a _non _di essere costantemente battere su." Draco nodded, wearily running a hand over his face. ((I don't know. Last time, she didn't have any time to realize what had happened, since she was so tired from the healing. Besides, he'd already been doing it for ages. Now, though, she's had a few days away from him, and she's realizing what it's like to _not _be constantly beat upon.))

"Si. Era usata a è sicuro ancora; Vaisey deve essere stato una scossa cattiva per lei. L'aspetterei essere là dentro per un poco mentre più lungo." Draco hesitated, before adding softly, "Lei pensa che dovremmo andare là dentro?" Blaise sighed, before shaking his head. ((Yeah. She was getting used to being safe again; Vaisey must have been a nasty shock for her. I'd expect her to be in there for a little while longer.))(( Do you think we should go in there?))

"No. Se ci ha voluti, sarebbe venuta a noi. Ha bisogno di questo tempo per essere solo." Draco cracked a smile at this. ((No. If she wanted us, she would have come to us. She needs this time to be alone.))

"Se la Viola del pensiero era qui, farebbe la merda che un mattone per sentire lei ciò dice," Blaise scowled good-naturedly. It was true that Pansy usually thought that they were insensitive pricks, but whenever they surprised her and were obviously compassionate to someone, she'd pretend to be shocked beyond belief. ((If Pansy was here she'd shit a brick to hear you say that.))

They sank into silence once again, and Blaise wondered just what time it was. Pansy and Theodore would be getting anxious by now, if they hadn't already gone out searching for them. He briefly considered sending his Patronus to give them a message, before dismissing the idea. Ginevra couldn't take too much longer, and it would probably be unnecessary to worry them.

"Cuore il più caro, che Thomas ha detto di noi essendo 'interessato' in Ginevra..." Blaise began hesitantly. Draco instantly looked more alert, scrutinizing his lover's features for any sign of his emotions as they started on this dangerous subject. ((Dearest heart, what Thomas said about us being 'interested' in Ginevra...))

"Io…la mia anima, lei sa che l'amo più di niente in questo mondo o il vicino. Ma lei...è giusto..." He looked away and Blaise could only nod. ((I…my soul, you know that I love you more than anything in this world or the next. But she...she's just...))

"È sicuro per dire che noi entrambi il tatto la stessa maniera di lei? E ciò né tradirà di noi l'altro ammettendo per interessare?" Draco looked back up, and suddenly grinned ferally. ((Is it safe to say that we both feel the same way about her? And that neither of us will be betraying the other by admitting to interest?))

"Sì, è sicuro per dire ciò. Adesso che abbiamo preso che fuori della maniera..." he trailed off, smoldering grey eyes locking onto a deep cerulean pair. ((Yes, it's safe to say that. Now that we've got that out of the way...))

"Non non sarebbe che un problema scoprire se sente la stessa maniera o. Non il solo problema è se sarebbe disposto a entrare in un rapporto con entrambi ci, appena uno di ci. Potrebbe essere aperta alle cose, ma era tuttavia alzata un Weasley, che è sicuro dire che ha probabilmente la piccola conoscenza della divinità di tale unire," Blaise rushed on quickly, an excited light creeping into his eyes in the face of such news. Doubts about whether it would work or not vanished in lieu of more important things, like the possibility of it actually _happening. _((It wouldn't be a problem to find out if she feels the same way or not. The only problem is if she would be willing to get in a relationship with both of us, not just one of us. She might be open to things but she was still raised a Weasley, which is safe to say that she probably has little knowledge of the divinity of such a joining.))

"Potrebbe imparare," Draco said, waving his hand dismissively. "Che è più importante, tuttavia, è proprio ora il fatto che sarà la nostro presto. Avremo per portare il nostro tempo, certo—nessuno bisogno correndo le cose prima che è pronta. Questo sarà probabilmente oltre strano a lei, dunque potrebbe portare il tempo. Ma possiamo attendere." Blaise smirked. Waiting wasn't their best trait, but when it came to their little lion…well, they could wait until the end of the world if the reward was gaining her. ((She could learn.))(( What's more important right now, though, is the fact that she'll be ours soon. We'll have to take our time, of course—no need rushing things before she's ready. This'll probably be beyond strange to her, so it might take time. But we can wait.))

"Parlare di attesa..." Blaise began, before the words caught in his throat. ((Speaking of waiting…))

There, standing in front of him, was the terrified face of Ginevra Weasley in the hands of Harry Potter.

* * *

"_Fancy meeting you here, my little Gin-bug."_ Came the cool, oily voice of the one person I feared more than anything in the world. It was remarkable that I managed to stay aware; only the tight grip that I had on the cool, cold marble of the sink behind me seemed to anchor me to the present, preventing me from escaping to the safety of oblivion.

"_Silencio_," he said, a smug grin on his face at my horrified look. I was so paralyzed by fear that I had forgotten to cry out—Blaise or Draco would have heard me if I had. Now…now it was too late.

Impulsively, I darted forward, attempting to get around him and towards the doorway. The room had seemed so small and cramped before but the distance to the door now seemed like hundred of desolate miles. I barely had time to think about it before I was rolling, my kneecap a fiery burst of pain as I rolled to a stop, whimpering and clutching my injured knee that he had managed to hit. I looked up into his eyes, green as poison and just as deadly, and couldn't stop the shudder that swept me when a flash of ruby crossed his eyes.

"Don't try to escape, Ginny," he cooed to me. "You've been silenced, and the only thing your new 'boyfriends' can hear is the sound of water running. They won't be able to hear any of this conversation." He cocked his head, the sneer that had entered his face at the word "boyfriends" disappearing just as quickly. "Well, I guess it won't be much of a conversation. More of a soliloquy." I scrambled backwards when he took a step forward, and the red flashed across his eyes once again, this time lingering even longer, before he scoffed.

"Don't bother. Either way, you're leaving with me, conscious or unconscious," he said in a dark tone. "But now, onto more pressing matters," he said brightly. My body was cold with fear. When he was like this—dangerous and deadly one instant and cheerful and happy the next—it was when he was at his worst. This was when his two sides, the one with Voldemort and the true Harry, battled it out. As a result, since the Voldemort side was always the winner, the beatings were much worse, the curses more painful, the rape more scarring.

"Now, Ginny, since you're incapable of speaking right now, I want you to nod 'yes' or 'no' to my questions. We can do this quickly and painlessly, or…" His face darkened once again, and he took another menacing step forward. "…or we could do this slowly and painfully."

Rubbing my knee, I slowly relaxed it to the point that I would be able to move it again. Better to be able to attack him when the chance came than just sit around and do nothing. My wand was a useless stick of wood in my pocket and I wanted to grip it tightly and cast all the dark spells I knew on him, but it wouldn't do any good. Until the Power Bind was taken off of me I was going to be unable to harm him. Physical attacks were my only option and even then I didn't really stand a chance.

"First question, darling," he purred. "Are you the reason why the paintings have all been swinging out and cursing me in the halls?" I gave a small nod of affirmation while mentally filing away in my mind that if I escaped with my life, I was going to go thank Salazar.

"And Peeves?" With my nod, his face darkened considerably. Technically, it actually hadn't even been my fault; the paintings were Salazar and Peeves was Pansy's, I was pretty sure, but it wouldn't make a difference to him. Either way, he knew that somehow I was behind the castle's attacks on him.

"And have you moved in with your new friends in Slytherin?" I nodded again and he sneered, striding forward until he could grab the neck of my shirt and jerk me into an upright position. Once upright I attempted to drive my knee into his groin but was thwarted by his rapid dodging. He dropped me just as quickly back to the floor and while I was trying to regain balance he backhanded me. I barely had time to catch myself but even then it was still too sudden for me to properly land.

With a sickening crunch my left wrist collapsed under the weight of my body. Blinding pain flashed through me, and I knew I would have cried out if not for the bloody spell. I positioned my body so I wasn't lying on top of my wrist. I breathed shallowly through my nose as I slowly pulled myself back upwards. Potter's eyes flashed red once again when he noticed me cradling my broken wrist.

"Poor Ginny. Broke your wrist, did you? Serves you right for thinking that you could find solace among a bunch of snakes!" At least he felt as if a broken wrist was enough punishment for now; he didn't advance any further to do me any more harm. I glanced at the door again but noticed with a sinking heart that I was now closer to that creepy eye than I was to the door. _Fuck. _

"Now, Ginny, here's what we're going to do. We're going to go back to the tower and have a nice _long _chat with Ron and Hermione. Your dear brother's been _so _worried about you these past few days, and Hermione…well, it's like she's lost a sister! I don't know how you could have been so cruel to have left us." His eyes glittered darkly, insanely. "And me…well, I love you, Ginny. I love you just as much as you love me. And I know that you're afraid of that—that's why you left, of course—but I still think we can work this out. Between you and me."

I couldn't help but try crawling backwards to get away from that crazy light in his eyes and he noticed. He chuckled sadly, an odd sound that resembled more of a dying animal rather than a laugh.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny. I can't help it. I love you _so _much. I just can't stand for you to be away from me. And when you do something wrong…it just angers me so much. I can't help it, Ginny. I hurt you because I love you so much. Don't you understand?" Pleadingly, he took another step closer to me and I scrambled backwards. This was the scariest side of him: when he justified what he did with his "love" for me. There was no telling what lengths he would go to when he was in this state.

"You understand, don't you, Ginny?" he sighed sadly, gazing at me with his crazed, love-struck eyes. Now, whenever I locked eyes with him they would flash bizarrely, like some twisted kind of Christmas lights that just couldn't decide on red or green. I wasn't sure which was more dangerous, when his eyes were green, with Harry's thoughts, or red, with Voldemort's. I wasn't sure which one was better.

"Now, Ginny," he began, walking to where a shimmery pile of fabric revealed the existence of the invisibility cloak, the proof of his undiscovered entrance into the restroom. Picking up the cloak he advanced on me once again. "You're going to walk out right underneath your new "friends'' noses with me back to the tower."

When I didn't move he scowled darkly, casually spinning his wand between his long, thin fingers. With a lurch I realized that he resembled Tom Riddle more and more each day—physical evidence of his internal infection. The only thing that he lacked was Riddle's sophistication; at least Tom had been refined in his education.

"Don't try to be rebellious now, Ginny," he reprimanded. "Remember, if you don't do this peacefully…well, it's not only _your _life at stake. You know that I would never willingly harm you." I resisted my silent snort of derision, ignoring the situation. "Yet we all do things that we don't want to do," he sighed, staring at a space above my head and sinking into his thoughts. Only when I edged a bit towards the door did he snap back into his senses.

"But Ginny…your new friends will suffer if you don't come with me. Help me, help yourself, help your fucking Slytherins…" He spat the last three words before continuing on in a soft, cajoling voice. "All you have to do is come with me and no one gets hurt. _Especially _not Malfoy and Zabini." Despite what he said about Draco and Blaise not getting hurt, his hand around his wand tightened and the cold pit of fear in my stomach hardened. With a sinking heart I realized that I was going to go with him, if only for Draco and Blaise's sakes. I couldn't let him hurt them.

I stood silently and he grinned triumphantly. I inched forward, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. Disgust shone on my features: disgust at Potter, disgust at the situation, and disgust at myself. It couldn't be helped. Potter dropped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to his body, and making me nearly convulse in horror and pain as he brushed my broken wrist. The cloak settled on our shoulders, and the last thing I saw before our reflections disappeared from sight was the terrified look of panicked calculation on my face.

I might have already been in chains but we still had to get past the guards. I still had a chance.

"Quiet, now," he whispered in my ear as we ducked through the tiny winding passage. Then we broke free of Potter's concealment charm and the dusky purr of Draco's voice, rich Italian pouring from his lips, met my ears and as they emerged into view I knew I would have made a noise, if not for the silencing charm. _Now or never, now or never, now or never…_

Blaise was speaking now and I looked down at the shimmery invisibility cloak oh-so-delicately swirling around our legs and I stepped on it, pulling it to the floor. Everything was completely and utterly silent when my frantic eyes finally met Blaise's eyes and I knew I would be all right.

* * *

A/N: Oh my gawd. I just realized that I must have reuplaoded it and deleted my disclaimer, chapter title (it's not as if it's creative or anything) and my past A/N. Crap. So, I'm in the middle of writing sixteen right now...and sorry. (April 13)

Also, check out the two one-shots I wrote to pass the time when I wasn't writing chapter sixteen: Not Quite Elysium and Tasteful Revenge. NQE is DG, and TR is DGB. Have fun with those.

Roma


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Sixteen

I had closed my eyes for barely a moment, and when I opened them, Potter was nowhere in sight. Neither was Dean. But standing a few feet away from me, wands still drawn, were Draco and Blaise, both of them looking a mix between murderous, triumphant, and concerned. It was just natural to close the scant few feet between us and grab Blaise's hand.

"Where is he?" I asked in a soft voice, my tone surprisingly strong.

"Incapacitated," Blaise said with dark satisfaction.

"And not moving anytime soon," Draco added. I frowned.

"But where is he?"

Draco took a step closer to the wall, delivering a swift kick to the seemingly empty air. When his foot collided with something hard, I realized that he had dropped Potter's invisibility cloak on him, up against the wall, so his chances of discovery were less than zero.

"I think we should get back to Draco's room before Pansy and Theodore send out a search party," Blaise said, already tugging me forward. I winced when it caused me to move my wrist in an awkward way, and he immediately froze, his eyes going straight for the swollen lump of flesh that could be classified as my wrist.

"How did you do this?" he asked me, while cool fingers lifted my hand up. Draco was there, gently probing it with soft fingers and examining it with a critical eye. I held on to my whimper. They didn't need to hear that.

"When he hit me, I landed on it funny," I said softly, my voice partially strangled in an attempt to not cry out. A whispered _Episkey_ brought about the waves of changing temperature, and then it was perfectly fine. As Blaise continued to pull me down the corridor, Draco strode over to the invisible lump that was Potter and delivering a swift kick before heading after us.

I began to swing Blaise's hand erratically and grip it a bit too hard, but he didn't comment on it, recognizing it as the way that I was coping. I knew better than to get into more pressing problems in the middle of the school, so the questions that were bubbling just behind my lips were going to have to wait until we were in the privacy of Draco's Head Boy room.

The walk back to his room couldn't have gone any slower. It was almost as if Draco and Blaise were just waiting for someone else to jump out and try to attack us again. After the night we had just had, it wouldn't be surprising at all. Thankfully, though, we made it through the castle without incident.

When we finally made it back to his room, Pansy and Theodore immediately looked up, sharp eyes taking in Draco's clenched fists, my disheveled appearance, and Blaise's wild eyes. Pansy sucked in a breath, and Theo's eyes got crazier and crazier. It almost seemed as if they were fueling each other's rage, building the tension and magical content in the air until I was sure I would scream.

"Stop," I said wearily, leaning a bit more heavily on Blaise's arm. "I'm fine, they're fine, everyone's fine—well, except for the few lying cursed on the second floor." Pansy frowned, hers being the only mask that dissolved to allow for something other than rage.

"Second floor…? What were you doing up there?" They were assuming that I had been attacked. Of course, that was right, but it still irked me that they had known that it wasn't Draco or Blaise that had been attacked. I had been doing perfectly well on my own, after all…I blushed anyway, a vibrantly red blush that I knew would shine all-too-clearly on my pale cheeks.

"No one was there to pick me up," I explained, examining mine and Blaise's entwined fingers. "So, I figured that I should head up to the library to see how the research was going." This was a partial lie, though; what had been the main unacknowledged reason in my mind when I had decided to go up rather than back to the dungeons was making it to Draco and Blaise. It was as if I was suffering a withdrawal when I wasn't in their presences.

"However do you manage to stay at the top of your class?" Theo asked in a wonder-filled voice, earning a death glare from me.

"It's not my fault—"—that I happen to be infatuated with them—"—that I was curious about the Power Bind," I quickly improvised in my weak defense. Defense, ha—it wasn't even a worth excuse.

"What happened?" asked Pansy, moving to sit down next to Theodore. Almost as an afterthought, Draco went and leaned against the post of his magnificent bed while Blaise sat me down next to him.

"Long story short? Ginevra was attacked," Blaise said coldly, the menace in his voice showing just how revolting he found the situation.

"Twice," added Draco, his voice sounding a fraction scarier than Blaise's.

"Are you still hurt?" Theodore asked, eyes pinned on my lip. I tongued it gently, wincing at the pain. _Oh_. I had forgotten that Vaisey's slap had busted my lip.

"Just my lip," I said softly. "Draco already healed my wrist. I broke it when Potter hit me." Almost as if I had hit a switch, the tension in the room skyrocketed. This time, I wasn't excluded. A rush of anger towards Potter swept through me, before being swallowed by a rapidly growing pit of fear. If he could get me again, after I had already been safely ensconced in the depths of Slytherin…well…the fact that I hadn't been with any of my Slytherin protectors escaped my frightened mind.

Blaise pulled me gently so I was sitting in his lap, caged tightly in his warm arms, and I promptly forgot exactly _what_ I was afraid of. _Oh_, I thought to myself, dazed. _Isn't this just lovely_. Distracted, I couldn't help but reach for a strand of liquid silk and marvel at how my finger could weave in and out of it. His hair was just so _soft_…

"When you're done 'playing' with Blaise, I'm next," Theo called, smirking. I glanced up, surprised to find the atmosphere once again free of tension, if only for a moment, before Pansy started glaring at me and Draco started up his death-inducing scowl. I sighed wearily. For supposedly emotionless Slytherins, they sure did roller-coaster their feelings a lot.

"If anyone's next, it's Draco," I said, before blushing darkly. I had been _trying_ to alleviate the mood, not get people _in_to the mood. Draco's scowl turned into a hungry smirk and I attempted to hide myself underneath Blaise's hair. He chuckled, and I felt the rumbling vibrations in his chest, making me move marginally closer to him so my side was plastered to his chest, if only to feel the last momentary vibrations. _This is probably illegal_, I thought to myself, grinning madly, _but it sure as hell feels good!_

"As much as I know you three are just dying to get to a room so you can have your wicked ways with each other," Theo said deviously, eyeing where Blaise was wrapped around me, "some of us need some sleep tonight. So, who attacked you?"

"First attack," I began, "was somewhere on the second floor, led by Vaisey and Creevey. Dean was with them, too, but he helped me. After these two swooped to the rescue and saved me and my precious chastity from Vaisey, I was then attacked by Pothead in the bathroom." Theo let out a snort at my "precious chastity" comment, and Draco quirked his lips, but those two were the only reactions I could perceive. The big bad Slytherins were back to being utterly emotionless.

"Once we made it out, Potter was stunned momentarily by my womanly wiles, and Draco and Blaise had enough time to curse his stones off and cover him with his invisibility cloak. Draco healed my wrist, and I was whisked away down here, where you find me in all my healthy and slightly traumatized glory," I wrapped up quickly. I sure did know how to tell a story quickly, and I knew that as soon as I was asleep, Draco and Blaise would spill all the juicy details to Pansy and Theodore. But, for now, they were satisfied with my short and speedy version.

"So what did you find out about the Power Bind?" Pansy asked, showing genuine curiosity as she moved away from the night's events and into the _real_ reason why Draco and Blaise were in the library. I already knew the answer to her question, though: nothing. I had searched the library for endless hours after I had been cursed with it, and had only come up with a dismal few details.

"Only a bit from the school's books," Blaise said in disgust, "at least until Draco had the smart idea to check the Restricted Section." That was the only place I hadn't looked, if only because I had already reached the end of my patience and lost all hope that Hogwarts would have had the answer to my problem.

"Even then, we only learned a few more things, and they won't help us in getting the Bind off of you," Draco added, scowling. I already knew this, so all I did was sigh dejectedly while Pansy shot him a dark glare.

"You're not helping, Draco," she reprimanded, and I hid my smirk in Blaise's shirt.

"Fine. There's been only one report of it ever being used, and that was supposedly Morgan le Fay using it on Merlin," Draco rattled off in a bored monotone, inspecting his nails apathetically. "But since Morgan's supposedly on Avalon and Merlin's…well, he's not exactly ready to give us a lecture on Power Binds, wherever he's at. So that's a dead end."

"We did find more about the nature of the Bind. Absolutely no magic-related spells, charms, curses, hexes, jinxes, or whatever can be used by Ginevra against Potter," Blaise clarified. I felt the last verges of my hope sinking to the pit of my stomach. _Well, there goes my plan of_ Wingardium Leviosa-_ing a piano on his arrogant head._

"Well, fuck," Theo said, embodying what we were all thinking in two simple words.

"Yeah," I said in a soft response. It didn't really look like there was any way out of this.

"We can keep looking," Pansy said suddenly. "It's not as if we should give up just because Dumbledore's light magic library doesn't have the right books."

"I can send home and ask my father to check in the library. We're bound to have at least a footnote in a book somewhere," Draco added.

"Same here. Mum'll be able to go through the books," Blaise said from above my head. I was a bit surprised that they didn't even think about mentioning to their parents_ why_ they would be needing information on the Power Bind.

"The elves can talk to my Uncle's portrait. He'll be able to tell them which books to look in," Pansy said, a troubled look in her eyes from what I guessed was from her lack of living trustworthy relatives.

"My brother can check out our library," Theodore said casually. I blinked; I hadn't known that Theo had a brother. I wondered why I hadn't ever heard of him, and concluded that he must have gone to Durmstrang.

"I can owl the twins and see if they've uncovered anything. They spent a lot of time dabbling in various things, so they might have come across something," I found myself saying. I was a little shocked at myself—I had been feeling a bit guilty that they were willing to go to such lengths to help me, while it didn't really look like I had anything to contribute to the whole endeavor, but I hadn't at all been considering contacting my family.

Granted, it was the twins. They had always been a little bit different from the rest of my family, disregarding what my parents said and much of what everyone else said, too. I hadn't talked to them in a while, and concluded that I might want to write a _really_ lengthy letter when I got around to asking them.

"So that's settled, then. We'll figure out just how to break this blasted curse, and then get on with our lives," Pansy said decisively, making me feel even guiltier due to the fact that she said it like I was an enormous burden on them. Which was true, but I didn't like to admit it.

With nothing else to say, I closed my eyes, exhaustion creeping into my bones. Two extremely stress-filled events in one night weren't exactly easy on me. Curling up close to Blaise, I didn't even bother to pull myself out of my half-sleep when they started talking again. Rather, I just sank further and further into the sands of sleep.

* * *

"Is she asleep?" Draco asked Blaise once they hadn't heard anything from Ginevra for a good half hour. It only took Blaise a moment to check and nod in confirmation.

"Good. Pansy, could you do us a favor and check her dreams? Seeing Pothead again surely wasn't that easy on her, and we all know that some nightmares can be extremely…realistic," Draco said darkly, various looks appearing on his companions' faces after such a statement.

"I'll be just a minute," Pansy promised, closing her eyes. When her face went slack, Theodore reached out a tentative hand to pull Pansy's wrist closer to him, two fingers settling delicately on her pulse point and staying there. He shot Draco and Blaise a warning look, threatening them with dire consequences should they say anything to Pansy when she awoke. Exchanging smirks, they settled down in their positions to wait.

* * *

I hadn't been asleep long enough to be dreaming. I knew that. But here I was, in some kind of unidentifiable misty place. And standing in front of me was Pansy. I squinted, trying to make sure that it was really her, and she rolled her eyes, sighing exasperatedly and confirming that it _was_ her.

"Don't squint, Weasley, it makes you look like a blind old man." I didn't bother pointing out that I wasn't blind, I definitely wasn't old, and I'd have to get a sex change in order for the last condition to apply. It just seemed like a waste of time when it came to stuff like that with Pansy.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, eyes narrowed. I had already picked up on the fact that this wasn't a dream, so I wasn't quite sure _what_ it was.

"Making sure that you won't emotionally scar yourself with your dreams," she replied casually, beginning to walk around in the small, misty place. Every once in a while she would raise her arm and make a movement like she was popping an imaginary bubble, before moving on and popping another.

"What are you doing _now_?" I asked impatiently, spinning around to keep her in my view. She shot me a dirty look.

"Normally, I would just let you stew in your curiosity…" she said slowly, trailing off and continuing her mysterious popping throughout the mist. She took one look at my glaring face and was quick to continue her statement.

"…but in your case, I'll make an exception." I turned away from her to hide my smug grin.

"I'm a dream walker," she said, continuing her absent popping. My interested was piqued and tinged with amazement. Parkinson, a dream walker? I wanted to be surprised, but I had to admit it was only faint shock that lanced through me. With all the remarkable things that had happened in the past few days, I was beginning to lose and capacity at all to be surprised.

"You would never be here without me. This is kind of like your space of possible dreams. Everything here is one of the many dreams you _might_ have, ever."

"Why can't I see them?" I asked her, failing to see any of these dreams she was talking about. She shot me a disdainful look.

"Are you a dream walker?" I cocked my head, shrugging.

"Fair point." I hesitated, before adding, "What do they look like?" She frowned, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Like bubbles. They're color-coded, really—light blue for peaceful dreams, purple for ambitious ones, dark green for greed, red for lust, black for nightmares—I have the ability to destroy them."

"How did you find out which color stands for which dreams?" She shrugged.

"Trial and error. Intuition. Books. Morpheus," she said dismissively. I shook my head in wonder.

"Morpheus? I don't even want to ask," I said, watching her as she halted. She chuckled dryly.

"Maybe later, Gryffindor. But for now, I'm done here." She grabbed at something, probably one of my dreams. Smirking she tossed the invisible bubble in the air, catching it.

"Sweet dreams," she said wickedly, slinging the invisible bubble at me.

For a moment, I fancied that I could see a violently red bubble flying at me, before Pansy and the foggy place faded into something _far_ nicer.

* * *

"Harry," a whispered hiss stretched across the hallway and over the fallen bodies of numerous boys. Two figures silently crept down the hall, checking each body and moving on when they confirmed that it wasn't the one that they were looking for. After checking all the bodies, they stepped closer to each other so they could confer quietly.

"Not here. Where do you think they went?" Ron asked Hermione. Her glittering eyes swept over the dark area, alighting on a figure that was especially bloody.

"They were just in a fight, so they probably went to wash up. The closest bathroom is the boy's bathroom on this floor." Not doubting his partner's deductions, he followed her down the hallway, neither looking back at the bodies in various states of disarray.

Ron entered the bathroom and came out shortly when he didn't find anything while Hermione searched the surrounding area. When both searches came up empty, Ron looked to Hermione for help.

"He had his invisibility cloak. He didn't get Ginny, so that obviously meant he lost. He's probably around here somewhere, knocked out and covered with the cloak," Hermione reasoned. Ron nodded beginning to blindly walk around and wave his arms wildly. Hermione scoffed darkly.

"Don't be a fool," she hissed at him, before murmuring, "_Accio Harry's cloak_!"

She deftly caught the silvery material that zoomed into her hand, and Ron dropped to his knee beside the bloody lump of body that was the Boy Who Lived.

"_Ennervate_," he said, reviving Harry with a shuddering gasp that wheezed out of his lungs.

"You've broken a few ribs. Give me a moment," Hermione commanded, quickly casting some spells that healed him enough to get him back to the Tower.

"Let's go," Harry said, coming to his feet shakily before leading them swiftly back to the tower. There was no speech, only a charged atmosphere of repressed rage.

Once safely secured inside of the Tower, Harry released his rage.

"_Bloody fuck_!" he hissed out loudly in Parseltongue, punching at a wall. Hermione tsked and healed his broken and bleeding hand, taking a seat and watching him as he paced. "_I swear that your fucking sister is going to pay for this!_" Ron looked torn between being offended and enraged, almost as if he wanted to denounce all ties to such a traitorous bitch or starting pacing around and cursing in Parseltongue, too.

"We just have to give her time to think about what she's losing when she's with those two snakes," Hermione rationalized, Harry's slip into Parseltongue not fazing her. After absorbing one third of the Dark Lord's soul, she had picked up the uncanny ability to speak and understand Parseltongue—she just preferred not to, to keep up appearances.

"She'll see reason. And if she doesn't…" Ron trailed off, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

"There are _ways_ to make her see reason. She won't stay with them for long," Hermione continued.

"_I just can't stand seeing her with them! She's just whoring her self out to two fucking blood traitors!_" Lingo like that had slipped into their vocabulary, too, after their final encounter with Voldemort, however ironic it may be.

"Let's just give her some time. She'll realize soon enough that they can't fulfill what you can, mate," Ron consoled.

"_I rather hope that they do, so we can kill them both and rip her sorry corpse out of their hands!_" Harry snarled, fists clenching and unclenching. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Quit being so damned dramatic. I didn't know you were that partial to fucking a corpse. I would have supplied a few ages ago," she said curtly. Harry sighed and collapsed on a couch, effectively defused. "Okay. We can give her until after Christmas break. If she hasn't returned by then…" Harry trailed off, letting them fill the silence with their menacing thoughts. If Ginny hadn't realized how great Harry was for her, well, she was in for a very rude awakening.

But until then…they had nearly two months to plan for if she didn't come running back to them with open arms. _Plenty_ of time to create multiple ways to kill off Malfoy and Zabini.

* * *

A/N: I'm back for the summer! Bit of an update, here: I will have the WHOLE summer devoted to writing (when I'm not taking extra courses or playing soccer). I got 9th in state for high jump (as a 5'2" sophomore. Be impressed.). Lots of other things have happened, but I can't really think of them for right no.

Since it takes me about two hours to write out all the review responses, and I'm kind of starting a clean slate, here, I'm not going to do review responses for this chapter. Sorry! They're just too long. And I don't want to do them right this second. So, next chapter, I'll do them. But you have to _review _for that to happen.

In between Mesmerize's chapter fifteen and sixteen, I wrote two one-shots. Check them out, too. Seven Deadly Sins will possibly be up soon, too.

My lovely beta was not in town, so I had to beta myself. All mistakes are mine. Also, Harry's slip into Parseltongue is obviously his slip into italics, too.

Hope you guys missed me!

Roma


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Seventeen

It was Pansy's obnoxious call of "Mail!" that awoke me so early in the morning. I groaned, rolling over and curling myself tighter in the warm sheets. My bed was infinitely more appealing than waking up and reading some more letters from my family.

It had only been a few days since I had started eating regularly in the Great Hall again—a mere two weeks after the whole confrontation with the Trio—and already my family had gotten wind of me "fraternizing with the snakes". Of course, I hadn't done anything so dramatic to warrant a Howler, at least not yet. So all the letters were composed of lots and lots of different ways to doubt my sanity.

Lately, though, I had been feeling pretty insane; for some reason, the night of my attack and every single night afterwards, I had experienced amazingly vivid dreams featuring two Slytherins doing numerous unmentionable things to my body. If I hadn't been on the verge of jumping their bones before, now I couldn't even stand to be in the room with them without feeling muscles that I hadn't used much at all lately clench in desire.

"Mail!" Pansy called again, sounding even louder. "That means you, my dead-ass little Gryffindor slummer!"

I had to sit up when a squawking ball of feathers hit me. I sat up, glaring at the smirking Pansy.

"Look, you didn't _have _to hurt the bird," I scolded, reaching for the owl. She rolled her eyes, walking back into her room.

"As if you care," she called back. I turned to the owl and my foreboding was replaced with eager anticipation when I recognized Fred and George's private owl. They had multiple owls, one for family, a few for business, one each for romantic arrangements, and one _really _private one for personal things. I always warranted usage of the last owl. It was the most impressive, too.

The scrolls pulled apart slightly in my hand, differentiating between Fred and George's letters. They usually ended up writing the same things, and they usually butted in on each other letters anyway, but I didn't mind. It was their attempt to slightly separate themselves from each other, and it always seemed to fail miserably. I set aside the worn leather pouch that was also attached to the bird; its contents were probably explained in the letters.

_Dearest Ginbug, _Fred's began. Written a little to the right of that was _(Ginbug: a distant relation of the water bug family, it is much more alcoholic in its tendencies than its hydrated cousin.)_, something that I knew was from George.

_If we had known that our dearest brother was such an absolute wanker to you, rest assured that he would have been a test subject for our Dark Arts products. _I grinned at this. I knew that they were always in need of test subjects, but it was even harder to find some that were willing to test dangerous products on themselves without being able to go to St. Mungo's if things went wrong, as they often did.

_Which, by the way, _George continued after a smeared bit of ink indicated that he had snatched the letter from Fred, _is going along smashingly. Attached are a few of our latest products, along with instructions. _

_But _do _try to return that bag; it took us nearly two months to enchant it to be bottomless, _Fred stated, regaining the letter. _We know how you probably edited things out, as well, but still, Ginny, we had no idea that our brother was so… _

_Full of fucking shit! _George added eloquently Another smear of ink indicated that the letter had been wrested back by Fred.

_As my not-so-better half has stated so fluently above, we were not aware that he was such a horrible prick to you. A few of our more best-selling products will be promptly sent to him disguised as a few bacon sandwiches. _I grinned again; everyone knew of Ron's fondness for bacon sandwiches, something I was sure hadn't changed since gaining a part of Voldemort.

_In the meantime, when we aren't busy with creating tastefully nasty and dangerous things to send to our brother, we've begun research on the Power Bind, as you asked. We didn't exactly find anything—bloody thing was barely even mentioned as a footnote—but we've got a few contacts that can possibly help with that. _

_After all, there were quite a few Death Eaters that were willing to become test subjects rather than be locked up in Azkaban, _George added. It suddenly clicked to me what all those suspicious-looking people had been doing at the twins' flat. I hadn't been over there recently, but the summer immediately after Voldemort had been defeated I had stayed there quite a few times. One of the twins' mottos was "ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," so I generally kept my mouth shut when it came to them. But now, at least, I knew what had been going on.

_So information should be coming shortly. If not, many of those ex-snakes probably aren't aware of the product that could be activated whenever we want to activate, causing excruciating pain and then death after they had suffered enough. _I giggled at Fred's blatant ruthlessness. Sometimes I had the feeling that would have been better as Slytherins rather than Gryffindors.

_Speaking of snakes, explain just _what _you are doing with four of the most notorious ones, _George wrote, his quill poking a hole in the parchment where he jabbed it particularly hard.

_I thought we taught you better than that! _Fred had scribbled below George's. _The least you could have done was hide out at the Ravenclaw Tower, not the Snake Den! _

I skimmed the next few paragraphs; generally, it was both Fred and George ranting about my poor choice in protectors, which I didn't really care about since even though they would have made fantastic Slytherins, they had been raised as Weasleys and Gryffindors. So that meant a hatred of all things Slytherin, in particular Malfoy and his cronies. I would have to explain to them that that was exactly _why _I sought solace with them; Potter and _his _cronies would be less likely to seek me out down in the dungeons than anywhere else.

_We're only concerned about your safety, Ginny, and hanging out with a load of Dark Arts-practicing, unethical, moral-less snakes isn't exactly healthy. If you'd like, the flat's pretty empty, and it'd be wonderful for you to stay for winter break. _

_Owl us back. We're only concerned for our only sister, especially since she seems to have developed an unhealthy obsession with snaky bastards, _George added, before Fred signed it with a flourish. I gave George's letter a glance over, but essentially it said the same thing, only using different words. I reached for the bag, fingering the opening but not putting my hand in yet. I wasn't sure if I wanted to start going through all the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' Dark Arts line, especially when I wasn't sure what they would contain.

The decision was taken from me when a black and green blur sprinted into the room and tackled me before I could even blink. The air left me in a whoosh of breath, and I lay stunned on the bed before I could gather that the excited squealing that I had thought to be the wind whistling through the stones was actually Theodore repeating "Hogsmeade! Hogsmeade! Hogsmeade!" over and over and over again in my ear.

"Theo!" I protested, trying to move from underneath his bulk. "Move it before I tell Pansy that you're afraid she won't wake up when she goes dream walking!" In an instant he was on his feet, doing his best to glare at me. And that was pretty damn good.

"You wouldn't _dare_," he hissed. I shrugged.

"Of course not. But, it _did _get you off of me," I pointed out. He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward, as if asking the gods just what he had done to deserve such a punishment as me.

"Don't even joke about that kind of stuff," he commanded me, and I shrugged. I would have my opportunity to throw them into bed together. I just had to bide my time.

"What were you so excited about? Something about Hogsmeade…?" I trailed off, watching that manic gleam creep into his eyes that so many students feared. Now I just found it to be a part of him, and it didn't scare me. At least not _too _much.

"It's Hogsmeade weekend! I told you that I'd buy you a new wardrobe on the next Saturday, and that's today!" Suddenly I could see just _why _he was so excited; that meant no more of Pansy's clothes! I would have my own! _Yes! _

I pumped a fist into the air, grinning triumphantly, and immediately threw myself out of bed, disregarding my letters as I followed Theo to the closet where he was throwing already-adjusted clothes at me to wear.

"See? Now you know what I mean!" he said excitedly, accidentally throwing two extra bras at me in his haste to get me dressed. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Relax, Theo. You're not going to have me wear five layers, are you?" He looked at me, horrified.

"Gods, no! My mistake, dear." I just shook my head and continued getting dressed in the black skirt, green shirt, warm tights, leather boots, and a fashionable jacket. He nearly choked me spinning on a silver scarf, and topped it off with a green hat that clashed with my hair—yet matched the shirt—and silver fingerless gloves. He looked at me in the mirror, a smug look on his face.

"Now all we need to do is find some of this that will actually work for you, not Pansy," he informed me, steering me out of the room once he had ascertained that I was dressed well enough to be seen in public with.

"I hate wearing green," I griped. "It makes me look like a bloody Christmas tree." He shot me a quelling look.

"No, it makes your infernal family with their tendency to breed like rabbits look like Christmas trees. On you, it just looks lovely. But, this shade is more suited to Pansy rather than you, so we'll just have to buy some more in your shade. I was thinking more of a darker green, to bring out some of those highlights in your hair…" Honestly, I didn't know how Pansy could like him. Sure, he was _nice _enough, but if I didn't know better—which, fortunately, I did—I would have thought him to swing the opposite way. But no, he was just…quirky.

"Give her a break, Theo. You've already put her in a catatonic coma and we haven't even left the Common Room yet," Pansy said, tossing me a green apple that would serve for breakfast as she joined us. She was dressed similarly to me, but she looked far more elegant in her clothes. Expensive or not, Pansy's clothes were custom made for _Pansy_, and there was just no hiding that. I bit out a chunk of the apple, slurping quickly to prevent any of the juice from slipping down my face.

Both Slytherins turned to me with expressions of disgust and fascination. I glared, chewing on the apple more so I would be able to talk through it.

"_What? _I don't want apple juice all over your lovely clothes, Pans." Theo shook his head.

"Clothes first; manners and etiquette second," I huffed angrily, marching out of our rooms with my hair streaming out behind me like a bloody banner. Laughing, Pansy caught up with me and threaded her arm through mine.

"Don't worry, my uncivilized little lion," she told me as Theo skipped to catch up with us. "We'll have you completely cured of any of those Gryffindor-ish tendencies in no time." I snorted and rolled my eyes. I ignored the fact that I didn't have a problem with her so casually insulting my house like that. The scary thing was that I hardly even acknowledged my connection to it anymore. The only thing that still connected me to it was in name, and the red and gold trim across my school robes.

We were preceded by the strange—but not uncommon—sight of Theodore skipping through the common room. Few Slytherins bothered to care about the seventh year's strange behavior, but most of the gazes were drawn to me. Some hostile, like Vaisey's—who still had yet to recover from the multiple curses placed on him by Draco and Blaise, so his face was a mass of orange and purple welts and one of his hands only remained attached to his arm due to a large amount of gauze—while some were curious, like some of the younger years.

A few seventh years were indifferent, Crabbe and Goyle being among them, but considering that they hardly took notice about whether or not there were other people around, they probably always looked indifferent. A few were even a little cordial to me. Pierce Harper, the one who had originally mistaken me for a blood child, was generally quite pleasant to me whenever Draco and Blaise weren't around. When they were, he didn't give me a second glance, but now, he gave me a wink and a boyish grin as I was hauled out the common room.

"Harper's going to get himself killed," Pansy muttered darkly in the dim corridor before the main part of the school.

"Why?" I asked, puzzled.

"Because he's interested in a certain little lion that two certain people have made it _very _clear that is extremely off limits," Theodore's sing-song voice rang back, before we were exiting the passage. I nodded my head at Salazar, who did the same to me. I muffled my snicker, though, since it was obvious that the Lady Slytherin was busy with certain fellatio underneath the Lord's heavy robes.

Pansy raised an eyebrow at the choking noises I was making, before following my eyes to the portrait and rolling her eyes heavenward at me.

"Excuse us, my lord, my lady, Miss Weasley seems to have something caught in her throat," she said quickly, and dragged me around the corner.

"Forgot something, dearest," Theodore said, skipping back towards the Common Room. Pansy spared him a suspicious glance, before her face lit up with comprehension and then sank back into the haughty mask that was usually in place.

"He'll catch up," she said dismissively, dragging me upwards. I glanced over my shoulder to see Theodore disappearing around the corner.

"What's got him in such a good mood?" I asked. He was generally strange, but not _this _cheerfully happy. Ever. I knew something macabre was bound to happen soon and probably to some Hufflepuffs.

"Oh, we're just playing a little trick on Draco and Blaise," she said, waving her hand through the air as if pushing my questions out of her face. Uneasily, I glanced at her sideways.

"Is that such a good idea?"

"Of course not. That's why we're doing it," she said slowly, as if pointing out the obvious. I shook my head. Sometimes I just didn't get them.

"Where are they, by the way?" I asked, my thoughts drawn to two pairs of magnetic eyes that caused something deep in me to clench, my breath catching. Pansy's sharp tug on my arm quickly evaporated these thoughts, but the coiled pit of desire was still there.

"Still in Draco's room. This shopping spree is going to be a bit of a surprise for them—we want them to be stunned by your fantastic looks. Although my clothes are wonderful for me, they don't exactly work for you," she explained as we made it to the entrance hall.

"Wait, so what's Theo doing, then?" I still couldn't figure out why Theodore had needed to go back; maybe he had forgotten something?

"He's doing a mass Confundus Charm as we speak. None of those in the common room are going to remember you passing through." She seemed smug about something.

"Is that…a wise idea?" I couldn't exactly see the gain there was to be had from making Draco and Blaise believe that I wasn't with Theo and Pansy. Other than making them very, very angry when they discovered that I was nowhere to be found.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Gin and Tonic," Theodore said on my left, making me jump with the suddenness of his appearance. He looked remarkably self-satisfied, and I was pretty sure that I knew why. I shook my head in wonder.

"You people are _crazy_," I said in awe.

"Does that make me the tonic?" Pansy asked, sounding as if she wasn't sure to be peeved or not. Theodore leaned around me so he could whisper in her ear; something that I knew from her tightened grasp on my arm pleased her _very _greatly. I hid my smirk and instead surveyed the hall.

"If you're the tonic, then I'm the bitter lemon…want a taste?" he purred seductively in her ear. She shoved him a way, but I noted the way her hand lingered a bit too long on his cheek, and had to immediately start coughing again to stop the impending outpouring of giggles. Pansy looked annoyed at me.

"Honestly, we can't take you anywhere," she reprimanded as if talking to a dog. I gave her a goofy grin as we bypassed the end of the line waiting to escape out of the castle and go to Hogsmeade, slipping in front of some frightened third-years right before Filch. He gave us his best suspicious glares and spent around five minutes looking up our names on the extensive parchment, but finally allowed us through.

Although it was a beautiful day, it was still quite chilly, being so close to December and all. Snow hadn't yet fallen, but you could nearly feel it in the air, sticking to clouds just barely and waiting for the perfect moment to suddenly drop on our heads like a white blanket from above. Hopefully, it wouldn't start snowing this weekend; I was cold enough as it was. I was already shooting a dirty glare at Theodore for giving me a skirt to wear, no matter how warm the tights were.

Although we had gone into a comfortable silence (on mine and Pansy's part; Theodore was still talking, but we were just ignoring him), we still got peculiar gazes. Most of the students were in shock and awe the Four Horsemen, as I had recently heard them called, had befriended me, the baggage of the Golden Trio.

We had even spent a night cornering Hufflepuffs as they went to their common room down by the kitchens, convincing them that Draco, Blaise, Theodore, and Pansy actually _were _the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and it was a sign of the impending Armageddon that they had befriended me.

A nasty grin that could only be considered as diabolical crept over my face at the thought of that fun night. Pansy saw me smirking, shook her head at me, and decided to draw me out of nefarious thoughts and Theodore's ramblings.

"I figure we've got two hours before Draco and Blaise find us," she reasoned. Theodore shook his head.

"Nah, I snuck in Draco's room earlier this morning and they were _still _going at it. Presuming that they're sleeping in, and that we got a head start by getting up early, we can tack on an extra two hours to that before Draco and/or Blaise find us and then promptly kill us two and kidnap Ginners here to have their wicked way with her."

Staring at him, I couldn't decide if he was truly insane or if it was just a twisted form of genius. I gathered from Pansy's expression that she hadn't thought that far ahead, and she was leaning more on the twisted genius side of the argument. I just left it open for further evidence.

"Well, what are we waiting for, then? Let's move your skinny ass!" Pansy said sharply, hustling me further even faster. I protested; after all, I had been eating regularly again under the watchful eyes of my Slytherin friends, so I wasn't quite as skinny as I used to be.

Still, I couldn't wait until we got into Hogsmeade. The approaching hours of endless amounts of lovely clothes flying on and off my body brought to mind a sense of peaceful calm and Zen, and I couldn't wait to get started.

* * *

Draco yawned and stretched, his hand coming into contact with silky smooth flesh and decided to stay there and caress it lazily. It was morning, and they had spent the whole night showing just how much they loved each other. It had been a competition, of sorts, and the only thing that would have made it better was a certain redheaded Gryffindor.

Blaise heard his sigh and turned over, trapping Draco's hand underneath his warm bulk. He grinned lazily at the blonde, reaching over to the nightstand to toss a Knut at Draco's chest.

"Knut for your thoughts," he said in a near purr. Draco groaned.

"Don't say that word. They ache enough as it is, without you bringing attention to them." Blaise chuckled.

"Buggering fuck!" Draco said suddenly, flying off the bed and towards the closet to dig some clothes out. "Today's Hogsmeade and we were supposed to go with Ginevra, Theodore, and Pansy!" Blaise swore just as fluently, only in Italian, and stood up to join his paramour in their raiding of the closet. He had enough clothes stored in the Head Boy's room to clothe a small country, so he didn't have to borrow the smaller boy's clothes. It was never really noticeable unless they were standing next to each other, but Draco was a good two inches shorter than him.

At least it wasn't as bad as Ginevra's nearly foot long separation in height from him.

It was easy to navigate the halls down to the Slytherin common room. After all, there was hardly anyone left in the school, and the only ones that had been left were the younger years, and they dove into side halls as soon as they saw the Slytherin Princes striding down the hall, practically fuming. How could Pansy and Theo not bother to wake them? It was damn near inconsiderate.

After entering the common room, it was near deserted, but Draco immediately strode towards Pierce Harper, a sixth year who had been cordial to Ginevra.

"Where's Ginevra?" he asked with preamble. Harper looked confused.

"Isn't she with Pansy and Theo?" he asked. Blaise rolled his eyes, joining Draco at their stare down of the younger Slytherin. He squirmed uncomfortably underneath their scrutiny.

"Well…probably," he answered. Draco huffed impatiently.

"Probably? Did you or did you not see them leave the common room this morning?"

"I'm not sure…" he trailed off, his brow furrowing in memory. Blaise snorted.

"Too much Infinity, Harper." It was as if a light went off in his head.

"Oh! I remember. I saw Pansy and Theodore leave the common room this morning looking extremely worried. They didn't stop and say anything to anyone, but just hurried out, as if they were going to look for something. They did look around the room, but that's all."

As Draco and Blaise pondered these words, it seemed to grow all the more horrific in their minds as to the possibility of just _why _Theodore and Pansy would look so worried.

It was a mark of their immense control that they didn't sprint to Pansy's room, but they did walk rather quickly, leaving a confused Pierce behind. The door swung open of its own volition before them, and it didn't take long for them to determine that Ginevra wasn't in Pansy's room, and neither was she in her own.

"Draco," Blaise said, sounding as if he was about to throw up. They were standing in Ginevra's room, with Draco going through her closet as if she could have hidden underneath the layers of Pansy's clothes. He turned quickly to find Blaise holding a small bag gingerly, a frayed bit of parchment in his hand.

"What is it?" Draco asked sharply, striding over to his dark-haired lover, tension in his every step. He snatched the paper from Blaise, and could feel the little amount of color in his face drain away as he read the words there.

_Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' Dark Arts Line_

_WARNING: Still in Testing Stages_

Horror bloomed in his eyes as he realized just what kind of danger Ginevra was in. They may have been her brother's products, but they were still the Dark Arts, and if they were still in testing stages, that meant that they were even more volatile. Both Draco and Blaise had previous experience when testing artifacts of the Dark Arts; although knowledgeable, they knew that Ginevra did not have the luxury of that, and could be gravely injured if she wasn't careful.

Not to mention the fact that the products were _Dark Arts_. Draco couldn't help but see Ginevra lobbing something at Potter, snickering quietly in her craftiness, before having the Power Bind chucked it right back at her. After an envisioned burst of light, all Draco could focus on was her dying, bleeding body…

Looking at Blaise, Draco could tell that Blaise's thoughts had gone much in the same direction. They needed to find Ginevra, and _now_.

* * *

A/N: Fantastic news! I'm excited about writing again! Yay!

Loads of thanks to Melissa, also known as **mell8**, for the wonderful beta!

News: I'm halfway through the review responses, so if you didn't get one, that's why. I'm going to get to work on that once I'm finished posting this. I just figured that you'd be more happy to have the next chapter than have a lame review response.

Thank you to all that loved the dreaded last chapter even when I hated it. You guys are wicked awesome.

Question: I'm not doing a red dream scene, as some people have mentioned, but who would be interested in a little spinoff series involving the two weeks of red dreams that Gin's been having? That'd be fourteen oneshots--or just one, depending on what I want to do. Review and tell me what you think about the chapter and that fantastic smut-filled idea.

Let's go for 360, people!

-Roma


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Eighteen

It quickly became apparent that Ginevra wasn't anywhere in the Slytherin common room or dorms. It took another hour of sprinting through the castle, trying to determine whether or not she had been taken by a Gryffindor or if she was just studying the library or something. Salazar enlisted the paintings, while Draco had convinced the Bloody Baron to threaten Peeves—and the rest of the ghosts—enough to have them search the castle as well.

When the search came up empty, though, both Draco and Blaise had to admit that she wasn't in the castle. They regrouped in the Main Hall, ready to plan before dashing off and searching for Ginevra elsewhere.

"There's the grounds left to search, and then Hogsmeade," Blaise said, a faint frown creasing his forehead.

"Oh, of course she'd _never _go to Hogsmeade on a _Hogsmeade _weekend," Draco sneered sarcastically. Blaise glared at him.

"Don't take your anger out on me. Save it," he advised. Depending on who was at fault—the Golden Trio, Pansy and Theo, or even just Ginevra—they were going to give them hell. Draco sighed.

"I'm sorry. It's just unnerving to think that I'm this stressed out over a _Gryffindor_," he said, not even managing to bring the proper amount of scorn into the word. He was just too worried. Blaise's face softened, abruptly pulling Draco into a tight hug. Breathing in Draco's smell infused with their cologne, he couldn't help but be put a little at ease. But still, Ginevra's impending danger was still present in his mind like a poisonous thorn.

"We'll find her," he promised. Draco nodded tightly, accepting the embrace, before pulling back.

"You get the grounds. I'll take Hogsmeade," Blaise said, his tone brooking no argument. He wasn't _quite _as quick to anger as Draco was; and in Hogsmeade, the Trio was likely to be there. Blaise knew that he had a better chance of finding Ginevra without getting distracted and cursing them to the seventh level of hell. So, it was only logical that he be the one to face the irritating masses, and Draco only had to deal with avoiding centaurs and creepy trees.

Draco made a face, looking a bit like a child deprived of his candy, pouting at Blaise. Blaise shoved him forward in the direction of the large door.

"You can kill them later," Blaise bargained. "For now, let's find Ginevra." They stopped out in the cool air, Draco clasping Blaise's arm briefly and dragging him forward, crashing their lips together for a passionate, if short, kiss. With a lingering glance, Draco ran off towards the Forbidden Forest, Blaise turning and running down the path. They _would _find her. They had to.

* * *

"Was it _truly _necessary to go to London?" I complained, dusting the soot off my robes, courtesy of the fireplace we had used to Floo from the Gladrags' Hogsmeade location. Theodore nodded sagely from my right side, already reaching forward to grab my arm and tug me forward, his clothes immaculate.

"Of course it was. It'd be positively simple for Draco and Blaise to figure out where you were at in Hogsmeade, so we wouldn't have plenty of time at all," he said, informing me a little bit more of his Machiavellian-like mind's inner workings.

"Besides," Pansy added from my other side, "this branch has a _much _larger selection." I couldn't help but agree to that. I knew that from outside, the shop looked small and tiny. Yet on the inside, it looked as if a few warehouses had been combined into one gigantic, yet chic, store. I bet that my eyes were probably popping out of my head. I had never been in a store with so many expensive things. Typically, my family never had the funds to afford anything from Gladrags, so I'd never been in the store.

"Good day, Lady Parkinson, Lord Nott, Miss Weasley," a store attendant said, making me bristle a bit at the slight given to me. The Weasleys were nobility, as were most pure-blooded families. However, as opposed to the Malfoys, Notts, Parkinsons, and Zabinis, we had lost our wealth in the Second World War. It wasn't just the muggles who had fought, which was why it was simply so devastating. Investing in the wrong side tended to do that to your wealth.

But still, poor or not, I still deserved to be addressed as the fallen nobility that I was.

"Lady Weasley, actually," I corrected her coldly. The sales attendant, who seemed a few years older than me, looked a little taken aback.

"Pardon me, ma'am," she said, inclining her head. I could tell that she didn't really believe that the Weasleys were nobility. After all, it was kind of like a well kept secret amongst the other pureblooded families. We were an embarrassment.

"It's no matter," I said, my tone softening slightly. It wasn't her fault she was ignorant to the intrinsic knots of pureblooded society and nobility.

"My name is Estelle. What can I help you with, Lord, Ladies?" Pansy's gaze was infinitely colder than mine had been. Even if I was quick to forgive, she wasn't going to forget the slight that easily.

"_Lady _Weasley requires a wardrobe," she snapped. Estelle nodded nervously.

"Of course. And whose account will this be charged to?" Theodore stepped forward, brandishing two tiny keys and producing two pieces of parchment out of his black jacket.

"The price will be split between the Malfoy and Zabini accounts," he said smoothly, dropping the items in the girl's outstretched hands. I felt my eyebrows mirroring hers as they crawled up my face, before a sharp elbow from Pansy made me rearrange my face to one of cool indifference. I was going to find out later, away from the ears of ignorant Estelle, about whether or not Draco and Blaise had actually sanctioned this shopping spree. I was betting on not.

"Very well, Lord Nott. Seeing as their seals are here, we will gladly welcome payments from the Malfoy and Zabini vaults." Estelle hesitated before continuing, "I will send others to help you with your shopping experience." She vanished into the depths of the shop and I turned to Theodore accusingly.

"Did Draco and Blaise _really _just hand over their vault keys like that?" I asked, suspicious.

"They probably would have," Theodore said with a shrug.

"It was just easier to get them wasted first so we can surprise them," Pansy finished, stepping further into the mammoth store and fingering a violet top.

"Surprise them? We're going to surprise them, all right," I said, shaking my head at their daring. If Theodore and Pansy shopped for me like it looked like they shopped for themselves, I knew there was going to be a huge dent in the Malfoy and Zabini vaults. After all, Gladrags wasn't exactly the cheapest place to get clothes. I felt a little—okay, a _lot_—guilty about the fact that they were willing (well, unwillingly willing) to just _give _me enough money to buy myself a wardrobe. I didn't even have to look at the clothes to know that what we bought today would probably have been equivalent to my father's last few years' yearly income.

"We're kind of hoping that the sight of _you_, Ginny, will be distracting enough to give us a head start," Theodore added, waving a brunette over.

"We'd like to see one of everything that would fit Lady Weasley here," he told her shortly, gesturing at me vaguely. If I had looked surprised earlier at the size of the store, I knew my jaw must have been hanging open. The sales woman didn't look much better.

"One of _everything_, sir?" she questioned, with enough incredulity to make me realize that she obviously hadn't helped the Lord Nott shop before. Pansy had, though, and she huffed impatiently.

"Are you deaf?" she snapped. "One of everything means one of _everything_." Luckily for the brunette, a pretty blonde stepped in front of her before Pansy could flay her skin off with her sharp words.

"Of course, Lady Parkinson," the new woman said quickly, inclining her head. "And what size is the Lady Weasley?" She had obviously served Pansy before. Pansy spared me brief appraising glance.

"I would say a four, but send in a tailor just to be sure," she said dismissively, taking my arm and leading me further into the shop.

"We'll be in the dressing room, Elizabeth," Theodore told the blonde, before following us.

"One of _everything_?" I hissed quietly. "That's bloody ridiculous!" Pansy scoffed.

"Of course we're not actually going to _get_ one of everything, you stupid bint," she reprimanded. "That will just give us the benefit of seeing all that the store offers without us walking miles."

_Oh_. I got it now.

We made it to the dressing room, which was an elaborate affair that put the Burrow's living room and kitchen combined to shame in sheer size alone. There was a single loveseat for someone to sit on, a door that led into the actual dressing part of the dressing room, a floor-length mirror on the far wall, and expensive-looking paintings on the other. The lights, rather than being torches or candles, were many tiny balls of witchlight that seemed to stretch across the expansive ceiling, painted to look like the morning sky.

Theodore and Pansy immediately made themselves comfortable on the burgundy loveseat, while I stood standing on a russet and cream oriental rug, staring at the walls, which were also cream-colored.

"Good day, Lady Weasley," Elizabeth said, entering the room with her wand in her hand. "As you are a new customer here at Gladrags, allow me to explain our dressing room." I nodded, giving her permission to continue when she paused. "The witchlights can be changed to be any kind of light. Simple clap twice, distinctly say the color or type of light desire, and then will change." She demonstrated this by clapping twice, enunciating clearly, "Candlelight," and the witchlights turned nearly golden, flickering shadows onto the walls. By clapping twice again and saying, "Default," the witchlights went back to normal.

"If you wish to see your outfit from every angle, step into the mirror and you will be taken to the Mirror Room, completely surrounded by mirrors at every angle to best see your lovely figure." I nodded, my eyes more focused on the massive stacks of clothes that other little sales assistants were floating with their wands. Soon enough, the room began to fill up. Staring at the piles, I was pretty sure that we weren't even going to be able to get through half of a stack before Draco and Blaise found us out. There were just so many clothes! They couldn't expect me to try _all _of them on, did they?

"In the room, Ginny," Theodore said impatiently. I glanced at him, ready to bite back a response, and was surprised to find that he and Pansy had already commandeered two baskets apiece—one for the clothes they wanted me to try on, and one for the rejects. I decided to follow his orders and go into the room. After all, Theo had that look in his eye that usually meant a very painful and macabre death. I rather hoped it wouldn't be focused on me, so I just quietly entered the room.

And was promptly attacked.

I didn't even have time to scream; my coat was flying off my body, and my shirt smacked me in the face on its way off of my head. I glanced around wildly for my wand—it had been in my coat—to discover that a thin woman brandishing a wand was the source of my discomfort.

"What are you—" was about as far as I got before I squeaked as I was deposited on my bottom, tights peeling off my legs and being quickly followed by my panties. My bra had already disappeared into the depths of the dressing room.

"Hey!" I snapped indignantly, crouched over my nakedness. If I could wear my blush as clothes, I could have been dressed for Arctic conditions. But no, I couldn't, so my vivid body-covering blush was all-too-visible to the menacing lady. She flicked her wand again, and tape measures flew out of her pockets, twirling through the air menacingly before streaming at me. Two yanked me up by the arms—painfully, I might add—and the rest wrapped around various parts of me.

"You could have asked, you rotten bitch," I muttered, my voice surly. Her thin, pinched face spared me a dark grin.

"It's so much funner this way, though," she replied with a sinister grin and an evil cackle. I resisted the urge to shudder and cover myself. What a creepy little lady. I hope that I got out of this soon…

"You're a size four, just as the Lady Parkinson said," she eventually said shortly. "But, you're a little too thin right now—got no meat on your bones—but I expect you'll eventually grow into your meat a little later," she said with a jab to my right breast. Shooting her a dark look, I crossed my arms.

"Look, you stupid bint," I began, borrowing Pansy's insult from earlier. "You don't see me commenting on _your _physical misgivings, which I have to say are _far _numerous than mine. So I'd appreciate it if you didn't comment on _mine_." She huffed, rolling her eyes and flicking her wand. The measure tapes instantly coiled themselves together before zooming back into her pockets.

"You young people are all the same," she muttered with another eye roll, before stepped outside of the room.

"_Hey_!" I said, striding forward and trying to stop her before she got out of the room. "You took my clothes!" I snagged the door before it closed shut all the way, but was a little surprised to find that the only people in the room outside of the dressing room was Theodore, Pansy, and Elizabeth. The insane tailor had vanished. Pansy caught me peeking out from around the door and gave me an evil look, before fishing around in a bin of clothes close to her and withdrawing a pile.

"Here," she said, shoving them into my arms. "When you've got them on, come on out. We'll tell you whether or not they're worth the price." I nodded, scurrying back into the room and closing the door.

The underclothes were simple—nude colored bra and panties—but the rest of the clothes were far from simple. Tight fitting jeans were the first part; they were soft, almost as if they were already worn, and it wasn't hard to get them on at all. Only when I had them on and buttoned up all the way did they tighten to the lower half of my body, giving the impression that I had been poured into them, rather than just sliding them on. Black boots that barely went higher than my ankles accounted for the foot wear, and they were unbelievably warm on my feet.

The top was gold, a choice that I wasn't sure they would have actually picked. And then I realized that the shade matched my eyes perfectly, and brought out golden highlights in my hair. It was a Gryffindor color, sure, but it sure did look fantastic on me. A trendy silver belt blended the shirt into the pants, and silver jewelry complemented the look.

After stepping outside of the room, Theodore whistled, before turning back to the clothes he was sorting through lazily. Using his wand, he'd float up something, decide whether or not he liked it, and then put it in one of two bins. The reject bin was piled high. But then again, I noted that the accepted bin wasn't that far behind, either.

"That's passable," Pansy sniffed imperiously, turning back to the bin to dig for some clothes. I was a little miffed; I was under the impression that these clothes were the best ones I'd worn, ever, and she just dismissed them as "passable"?

"Here, try this on," Theodore said, slinging another shirt at me. Pansy glanced at the color, before digging in her bin for a pair of pants. Theodore helpfully handed me another pair of shoes, before shooing me off towards the dressing room.

This time, the shirt was green. It was a touch darker than Slytherin green, and some kind of tight material that was almost nonexistent. The pants were also black, but instead of being jeans, they were now leather. The shoes were a strappy black. I took one look at myself, and realized that I looked like a prostitute. Stepping out into the room, it looked like Pansy and Theodore agreed by the expressions on their faces.

"You look like a slag," Theodore said bluntly. I grimaced.

"I know. Can I take it off?" Pansy snorted a laugh.

"I'd say that it's mainly just the shirt that's killing you right now—not to mention the fact that your bra straps are visible." Oh. I hadn't noticed that. But, either was, the size of the shirt was definitely a _negative _size, and it _did _make me look like a whore.

"Here. Try this one," Theodore said, handing me another green shirt. It looked like the same color, but the style was different. Opting instead to turn around, I slipped off the halter top as quickly as I could without ripping the dainty fabric, and slid the other one on. This one was long sleeved, with a plunging neckline that went lower than the halter top had yet still managed to look practically virginal in comparison.

"Much better," Pansy said in approval, before tossing a red shirt at me, and a pair of shoes. Theodore provided the pants, and I turned around, going back into the dressing room.

The shirt was a little darker than blood colored, and a shade or two darker than my hair, serving to bring out the darker highlights, as opposed to the golden shirt that had brought out the lighter parts of my hair. With this read shirt on, my masses of hair looked even more bloody and dark next to my pale skin. The pants were a smooth fabric that I had never seen before, but it was unbelievably soft and hugged my legs, as the other pants had done. The boots were knee high and wintery, silvery white boots that would help me mash my way back through the snow. I realized that someone had also given me a scarf to go with the boots, and looped it around my neck.

When I opened the door, I heard the hum of voices, and realized that Pansy and Theodore were talking to each other. I left the door cracked, listening intently. Luckily, they weren't that far from the door, so I could hear them quite well.

"—you expect Draco and Blaise to be?" Theodore was saying.

"It's been about an hour or so since we left," Pansy replied, throwing clothes into both bins left and right, "so maybe about two hours or so."

"They're probably still busy fucking," Theodore said with a laugh. Pansy giggled, a sound I was still getting used to hearing, and nudged Theodore with her elbow, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Just _imagine _how much…_imagining _they must be doing without Ginny!" Theodore grinned lecherously.

"Want to bet me five galleons that Blaise has already resorted to shouting out her name when he climaxes?" They laughed loudly while I leaned against the door, closing it. I knew my face was bright red—oh gods, could I _get _any more embarrassed? I was burning from embarrassment, burning from _other _things, especially at the mental imagery evoked from Theo's sentence. I tried not to think _too _hard about Blaise climaxing…

I shivered, but I wasn't close to being cold at all. Gods above…

"Gin! How long does it take for you to put clothes on? I hope, for Draco and Blaise's sakes, that you don't take that long to take them off!" Pansy called from behind the door, and I realized that it would be better to get out of the dressing room and leave the heated feelings that I had behind.

I opened the door, revealing Pansy standing right in front of me. She caught sight of my heated face and smirked.

"Hear a few things that you shouldn't have heard, did you?" she asked, dark amusement lacing her voice. I shot her a dirty look, knowing that it wasn't that effective when I was as red as my shirt.

"Don't act like it isn't true," Theodore added. I sighed, shrugging and giving them a guilty smile.

"Okay, so I was eavesdropping," I admitted.

"Turn," Pansy said shortly, examining my outfit with a critical eye. I spun around for her, and she nodded in approval.

My mind was spinning off in a million different directions, though. Okay, so I was positive that I liked both Draco and Blaise. Who wouldn't? But, _together_…that was an even better idea, sure, but…two guys? And one me? How would that work? They already loved each other—that much was beyond obvious—so where would I fit? I couldn't even begin to compete against Blaise for Draco's love or against Draco for Blaise's love; I was already second place there. They had already pretty much admitted that they were interested, but how much?

"Do you guys…" They glanced at me again, before shooting a pointed glare at Elizabeth. She took the hint, leaving the room. I continued on, knotting my hands in the scarf and examining the carpet. "Do you think that I'd actually have a chance?" Without looking at them to see their reactions, I hurried on to finish what I was thinking. "I mean, they've already got each other. Is it really that easy to see me fitting in with them?" Cool fingertips on my chin raised my head up to meet Pansy's violet eyes, with Theo's grass green ones looking over her shoulder.

"Gin, love, I know it looks like they'd never open their hearts to you," Pansy began, her fingers falling away when she knew that I'd continue to meet her eyes.

"And typically, we'd agree," Theodore said honestly, earning a heated glare from Pansy. "But," he was hasty to add, "You don't know how this is different. This is…special. They haven't ever had a mutual interest in one person. They've had their occasional passing fancies, but nothing as strong as whatever they have for you is."

"Do you think they just randomly open up their vaults for anyone?" Pansy demanded, looking close to hitting me upside the head for even considering that they did this kind of stuff all the time. I shook my head slowly.

"No…I guess not. I just think it's so unrealistic that they'd be able to open their hearts as well," I admitted softly.

"Not to mention you're having trouble grasping the whole taboo ménage à trios thing, right?" I blushed, nodding my head. Yeah, that too. What would I tell my mum? "These are my boyfriends, Draco and Blaise." I could see that going down _really _well.

"Consider this: don't you think they're just as confused as you are?" Pansy offered. "They've only ever had each other, and now you've come along and twisted up their feelings out the ass." I giggled lightly at that imagery it brought to mind.

"Just give it a chance. Go with it and figure stuff out as you go," Theodore said encouragingly. I smiled bravely.

"Okay. I guess I can go with that." Turning crafty, I turned my head to the side, playing with a bit of fabric as I glanced at them out of the corner of my eye. I hid a private smirk to myself as I watched Pansy and Theo fill the silence by glancing at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking. Time for _them _to see how it felt to have their love lives targeted.

"Speaking of relationships…"

* * *

A/N: I'm back, again! This was edited by yours truly--my beta was busy, and hasn't gotten back to me, so I decided to just edit myself and post it since I was so tired of making you guys wait! (Don't worry, Melissa, when you're free enough to edit the chapter, I'll post that one instead of this one.)

Chapters Eighteen and Nineteen were originally one chapter (in my head, I mean), but that didn't really work out on paper since I manage to expand everything to the point of no return. Gah. Oh well, that just means more chapters! And more development! And one more chapter to the big you-know-what scene!

You guys completely blew me away with reviews for the last chapter--amazing!! 365! That's so cool!

Keep on being awesome, guys, and review some more!

Still looking for opinions on the Red Dream fic. And possible ideas, since I'm not sure my virgin mind can come up with 14 different ways Draco, Ginny, and Blaise can do it.

You guys rock!

Roma


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Nineteen

"_Speaking of relationships…" _I trailed off, leaving the space to fill in with the menacing silence that had both Theo and Pansy shifting uncomfortably. They both steadfastly refused to look at each other, instead sorting the clothes with much more passion that they had exerted before. I frowned, putting my hands on my hips. I wasn't used to being ignored by them, and I didn't _want _to be ignored. They deserved payback!

"I need some advice for a _friend_," I said, stressing the last word. That got their attention, when it looked like I wasn't going to focus on their so-called relationship. I hid my grin and continued on, pasting on a concerned expression.

"She's got this huge problem," I began. "She's got this thing for a guy, but, unfortunately, even though I know he's got to be _dying _to shag her, he won't make a move. And she won't do anything, either." I saw realization dawn on their faces as my faux-Parvati-voice began to describe their relationship. "They've known each other for ages; their parents are really connected, so they went to all these posh little parties when they were younger together."

They were "connected" in more than once sense of the word. Everyone knew that you only had so many pureblooded families to choose from before you had to intermarry again. It had happened so much that Pansy and Theo were probably distant cousins of some kind.

Hell, I even knew that Draco and I were related; we were third cousins once removed, but it was common knowledge that cousins marrying cousins was acceptable in pureblooded families. All pureblooded families were versed in their family tree, and were taught that the only people you _couldn't _marry were your direct siblings.

Of course, with all the muggle influence, first cousins were now considered taboo as well. Luckily, though, I wasn't all that interested in marrying any of my cousins.

"But, really, what should she do? Or he, for that matter, since neither of them will come to their fucking senses and just get over themselves," I added maliciously, watching them squirm. "Because if they did, they could do all _sorts _of things, and shag practically anywhere; on the Quidditch pitch, by the lake, out in the Forbidden Forest, the Charms classroom—hell, they could probably shag down in the Shrieking Shack. I know that the shack wouldn't be the only one shrieking."

I smirked as Pansy turned a pale pink—her equivalent of my Weasley blush—and mumbled something about finding a stiletto or something, making her escape out the door and away from me. _Probably so she can murder me, _I thought to myself cheerily. Her counterpart wasn't so lucky, so I turned to the vulnerable Theo.

"Now, on to business," I said shortly, advancing on him slowly. In a flash, his wand was in his hand and he was firing off a curse at me. Cursing, I threw myself to the ground, scrambling away as I reached for my wand. I hissed out, "_Locomotor mortis_," diving into a pile of unsorted clothes. I heard him swear violently, and a tiny squeak that came from Elizabeth. _Whoops_. I had forgotten about her. I only hoped that she would get out of the way before a stray curse hit her.

I appeared briefly out of the pile to cast "_Obscuro_" at him, yet I was hit with an _Incarcerous _at the same time.

I managed to wave my wand and dispel the ropes before they reached my arm, and shot a dirty look at Theo. His legs weren't locked together anymore, and now he was approaching me, a dangerous look on his face.

"I'd rather you not discuss mine and Pansy's relationship," he said darkly. Instead of answering, I nonverbally cast _Defadio_, making him stumble back a step as blood seeped out of the deep gouges on his pale skin.

"I'll discuss what I want, when I want," I snapped back. "And if that means you and Pansy shagging, then I'll talk until the sun falls out of the sky!" I didn't have time to scream as I was hit with a _Sectumsempra_, shortly followed by a nearly violently growled _Langlock_. I quickly thought out the counter-curse to that so I could taunt him further, even though the blood dripping from my arm was an annoyance.

"Don't talk about us!" he said menacingly, before the expression fell off his face in favor of a horrified look. I grinned triumphantly at his slip, casting _Protego horribilis _to shield from his curse he sent at me to stop me from pursuing that line of thought.

"So you do consider that there's enough of something there to call yourselves 'us,'" I said deviously, keeping the shield up so I would be able to talk. The silvery sheen flared different colors as his various curses hit it unsuccessfully.

"Why are you so adamant in staying away from her?" I asked, this time a little mystified. I had been wondering that; Pansy seemed all for Theodore, but he never really gave her any hint that he felt the same way. I knew he did, though, so what was the problem?

I realized that I had hit the nail on the head, so to speak, when he hesitantly lowered his wand. He looked a little lost, so I struggled out of the pile of clothes, going to him. First things first, I eased his wand out of his limp hand and tucked it into my back pocket. I didn't want him cursing me while I went all therapist on him.

"Why, Theo?" I asked again, softly. His green eyes, usually so full of uncomplicated deviousness and malice, now looked confused and a little lost.

"I…I don't know," he answered slowly. I knew there would be more to the answer, so I waited it out. I was grateful that the shoes I had been wearing for our mini fight were the winter boots; if I had been wearing high heels, I probably would have blisters the size of Paris on my feet.

"I mostly want to just keep her safe, really," he admitted, reaching for a bit of my hair to twine nervously in his fingers. "I don't want to hurt her." I quirked my head, curious.

"Hurt her how? I know you'd never hurt her," I said softly. He always had her in his mind, her concerns, her health…everything. He would _never _consciously hurt her. Maybe that was what he was afraid of? Hurting her when he wasn't aware of it?

But that was near impossible. I had seen the way that Theo looked at Pansy. He was _constantly _aware of her.

"I understand Draco and Blaise's reluctance better, now," he continued on. "They didn't want to rush in so soon after that prick Potter." I felt myself close up a bit, lean back and away from him, before I consciously figured out what I was doing. And then, suddenly, it hit me: Pansy had been abused, too, by her father. Theo was afraid of hurting her, too.

"Oh, Theodore…" I sighed, a smile flickering across my face. "It was her _father_. And she said that he didn't rape her. You being with her wouldn't hurt her; you're hurting her by staying _away _from her." He shook his head, an anguished expression crossing his face.

"It's not just that, Ginny. She deserves better." I snorted, rolling my eyes. "She deserved better"? How clichéd.

"Please. Next excuse," I said dismissively. He tugged lightly on my hair, bringing my attention back to his pain-filled eyes. Oh. Something else must be going on.

"Not like _that_. I…" he trailed off, look over my shoulder with a haunted expression. My teasing expression vanished off my face; he was serious. This was something important. _Really _important.

"I can't be with Pansy," he said finally. I reached for his hands, holding them in mine.

"You _can_, Theo. She doesn't care. She…" I was hesitant to say love. I knew she loved him, and he loved her, but to say something so permanent before they even had a relationship? Disastrous. In the Wizarding world, you didn't use that word lightly. "She likes you for who _you _are. Not anything else." He still looked like someone had just died before his eyes. Fuck. What was the problem?

"Ginevra…" Now I was concerned. Only Draco or Blaise ever used my full name. Well, they and my mum, but she didn't count right now.

"Trust me, Theo. If you don't want me to tell her, I won't," I promised. He met my eyes, and nodded seriously.

"I want you to swear a blood oath." I dropped his hands, blanching. A blood oath? Gods above, was he about to confess that he was a eunuch?

"Whatever it is, could it physically harm any one of us?" I asked. I didn't want to swear to hide something that could put us all in danger.

"Physically, no. Emotionally…" he trailed off. I nodded firmly. We couldn't do an Unbreakable Vow, since we didn't have someone present that would be a Bonder for us. Well, not anyone that we were willing to trust. Pansy was out since this was something that directly involved her. So all that was left was the blood oath, something much more potent and older than the Unbreakable Vow ever was.

"Okay, I'll do it." He withdrew a blade out of his coat, small and thin. I offered up my right wrist, pale and unblemished, rather than my bloody upper arm. He held his right wrist next to it, and held the blade with his left hand.

"I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, do hereby swear to never communicate in any way Theodore…" I paused, and he mouthed his middle name to me, "Lyndon Nott's secret unless it has been otherwise stated and allowed by Theodore Lyndon Nott, with all of my power, with all of my life, to the last drop of my blood, I swear it is so."

"I, Theodore Lyndon Nott, do hereby accept Ginevra Molly Weasley's vow of secrecy, and I further state that in the case of my death, Ginevra Molly Weasley has full permission to tell anyone within reason my secret. With all of my power, with all of my life, to the last drop of blood, I swear it is so."

We finished it by clasping arms, sharing blood. I felt a tingle as the ancient magic took affect, and had to fight not to pull back from the sensation of feeling his blood travel up my veins and to my heart, where I could feel his blood sitting there, a reminder of my oath.

Once we unclasped arms, the sensation of feeling his blood in my heart faded, but I knew that if I concentrated, I would still be able to feel it. It was a strange sensation, that was for sure; I had never formally done a blood oath, only read about them, but I had never read about this curious side effect.

"Hurry up, Theo," I urged, tossing him his wand so he could clean up and heal himself, while I did the same with my wand, the wounds that his _Sectumsempra _had inflicted vanishing under my lightly sung counter-curse. I wasn't sure how much longer Pansy was going to be, and I wanted to actually hear what my blood oath had earned me. He seemed to understand my urgency and nodded. He quickly cast a silencing charm, and then stepped closer to me. The pain that had been absent during the ritual, the utter hopelessness in his eyes, made me want to take him in my arms and hold him like a child that needed comforting.

Of course, I didn't do that, since Theo was definitely _not _a child. And besides, that was more of Pansy's job. Instead, I settled for reaching for his hand, offering my support. He leaned down, so his lips were only a breath away from my ear. It really was a testament to how hard I had fallen for Draco and Blaise that I wasn't even affected by Theo, who I would rank a close third in the looks department.

"I'm infertile."

I felt my breath leave me with just a whisper. With my spare hand, I reached up and slapped him suddenly. He jerked back, all hints of despair gone and replaced with pure shock.

"You utter wanker," I fumed, glaring at him. "I actually thought it was _bad_." He wrinkled his brow, confused, before it smoothed out to be replaced with a haughty one.

"I would think you'd understand, Ginevra of the Weasley clan, those who know naught of birth control," he said coldly, scowling at me. I blushed a bit, before I softened my tone.

"Yeah, I guess it is pretty bad, but I was thinking you had some incommunicable disease and you were going to die next Tuesday or something." His grin quirked back into place, even if it was tinged in sadness.

"No, that's my other big secret. You're off by a day, though. I'm due to kick the bucket on Wednesday." I grinned at him, even as my mind dashed off madly. This _was _bad, in a sense. Natural infertile normally couldn't be cured, unless it was with serious blood and Dark Magic. That he hadn't said anything previously meant that he thought it was incurable.

"Theo, Pansy won't mind," I said with conviction. "Like I said, she wants you for _you_. Not for your babies." He smiled sadly, tugging gently on some of my hair.

"It's not just about what she wants," he murmured, closing his eyes as if in pain. "_I _want to have a family. And I…I want _her _in it." He said the last part so quietly I could barely catch it, and when I deciphered it, I felt my heart wrench painfully.

"Oh, Theo…" I sighed, grabbing him in a fiercely tight hug. He froze for an instant, before embracing me even more tightly, almost to the point that I couldn't breathe.

"I know it's impossible," he said into my hair. "I know that it's stupid and childish and immature to want to hope for something so fucking out of my reach. But I can't help but…" he trailed off, before beginning again, babbling his heart out in words that could barely silhouette his pain. "It would be agony. I couldn't put myself through that knowing that we'd never be able to do anything other than shag. I wouldn't put Pansy through it. She…" he trailed off again, and I felt like crying.

This was so much more complex than I had ever thought. I had just thought it was a case of two almost-lovers just not getting together yet; this was a much darker reality that was so much worse.

"I know what she wants. She wants more, too. I can't give it to her. I don't deserve her," he repeated brokenly, and I felt my eyes itching as a few tears were sucked up into his shirt. _Why? _I wanted to ask. Ask who, I didn't know, but…why? Why them? Why Theo? This was…beyond words.

A sudden movement by the door revealed that Pansy was back, I drew back from him partially to ascertain that he wasn't crying like I was, and I swiped at my tears, at the same time reaching for his hair so I could bring my lips to his ear.

"Swear to me that you'll stop this fucking nonsense and shag her, and I promise I will find a way to cure your infertility," I hissed sharply. He pulled back, his eyes protesting when his voice wouldn't.

"Swear it!"

"Gin, you can't, it isn't possible—"

"Swear it, Nott, or I'll make sure that infertility is a walk in the park next to what I'll do to you," I threatened, my eyes on Pansy's frowning face. I still felt like crying, but it had been pushed aside in favor of this passionate emotion I was feeling now. I _would _help them. I had to.

He hesitated, before whispering softly, "I swear." Smirking triumphantly, I pulled back, dispelling the _Silencio _with the thought of a spell.

"Find what you were looking for, Pansy?" I asked sweetly, discreetly stashing my wand in my shirt. She faced me with an implacable expression.

"I did find this," she said, gesturing behind her where a cowering Elizabeth was. I arched an elegant eyebrow, as if to say, "That isn't mine."

"Oh, we were wondering where she had gotten off to," Theodore added smoothly.

"Really? Well, she told me that you two had managed to pull out your wands and were dueling, _again_," she said in a slightly angry tone. It was more exasperated than anything, for the most part. She didn't seem to mind that she had caught us in a near-embrace; apparently, she had picked up on the fact that it wasn't romantic at all.

"Fascinating," Theodore said, but I could tell that he was more fascinated by Pansy's lips than anything. I turned away from them to the pile of clothes that I had ruined by diving into, smirking. Apparently Theo was already willing to begin his courtship of Pansy, regardless of whether or not I would uphold my end of the deal. He was used to using his morbid humor as a mask, and he was going to use it again.

But this time, it looked like the heat in his gaze was more sincere that it had ever been, and I wasn't the only one who noticed. Pansy looked away from him, her cheeks painted pink.

"Theodore…" Pansy began, before she was cut off with his finger on her lips.

"Shh," he said, eyelids a little bit lower than normal. I snuck around them and grabbed Elizabeth's arm, towing her out of the room. Whatever they were about to do, I wasn't going to be around for. Once outside of the room, I closed the door and cast _Colloportus_, locking the door, _Silencio_, and an Imperturbable Charm.

"This door is to stay shut," I warned the quavering Elizabeth. She nodded hastily. "Good. Now, I want to look at your more _provocative _line of minimal clothing…"

* * *

Blaise Zabini was furious. Well, he was more equal parts worry, fear, and fury, but he rather liked to focus on just fury than anything else. He had made it to Hogsmeade without any luck; Ginevra hadn't been anywhere on the trail, or around it, either. For once Blaise fervently regretted his decision to forego his studies in becoming an Animagi and finish school first.

_When we find her again, all of us are going to become Animagi_, Blaise promised himself silently. He didn't bother thinking about whether or not they _would _find her. He didn't want to give voice, even in his thoughts, to the voice of doubt. _After we resurrect those fucking idiots, Pansy and Theodore, first, of course, _he amended after some thought.

Blaise decided to check on Honeydukes first. It was always one of the first destinations of all Hogwarts students, so it only made sense that Ginevra might be in there. Amongst the throngs of Hogwarts students concentrated around various niches in the store, he still couldn't catch sight of any bright red hair. Not even the Weasel was in the store.

Just to be sure, though, Blaise wrestled his way through the buzzing crowds, ignoring their meaningless chatter unless he heard any of their names. And even then, he only heard "Weasley" mentioned once, and that was in relation to Ginevra's twin bothers' joke shop. A small wave of fury swept through him at the mention of the two brothers. How could they have been so stupid to send her Dark Arts products, knowing that she still had the Power Bind on? Apparently they were more like the Weasel that he gave them credit for.

At the back of the store, he cut in front of a bunch of Hufflepuff-looking third years to the front of the line, leaning dangerously across the counter and invading the older woman's space. Rather than look grateful of the attention she was receiving, she looked a little unnerved by Blaise's expression. Blaise was willing to sacrifice his pride for Ginevra, at least for something as high risk as this. Mentally heaving a sigh, he prepared himself for admitting that they had lost Ginevra to practically the whole school.

"Has a red-haired girl, about this high, really pale, walked in here today?" he asked quietly, holding a palm up in the air to illustrate Ginevra's height and knowing that his every word was being mentally recorded by the Hogwarts students. By Monday it would be all around the school that the "Fearsome Foursome had lost their Gryffindor pet" or something maddeningly stupid that.

When she still looked confused, he added, "She was long red hair, nearly blood colored. You would remember it if you saw it." The woman hesitated, before shaking her head in a no. Shooting her a dirty glare for being no help whatsoever, he turned around, pausing when he saw the pushing group of school children barring his way to the door.

Blaise huffed angrily, making the students near him to sink into a nervous silence at such a blatant show of anger. They weren't used to a display of any emotion from him, unless it was indifference. Shooting threatening glares, he parted the previously practically impervious masses with ease and left the candy shop.

Next on his list of Places That Ginevra Might Be was Zonko's Joke Shop. Zonko's was just as crowded, but Blaise was through with looking like he was okay with Ginevra being missing. He allowed the murderous expression that was lurking just below the surface to show, intending for it to scare a path for him. He stopped just inside the entrance, looking around at the frozen faces.

Leveling his gaze on all the students, he didn't start moving again until he was sure that he had imprinted his expression in all of the student's memories. Blaise then walked to the manager. Out of Honeydukes and Zonko's, Ginevra was more likely to enter Zonko's. So he was willing to ground his pride more into the ground for that. It had been bad enough at Honeydukes, but Zonko's, too? It was nearly unbearable.

Nearly.

"Have you seen a pale, redheaded girl, this high, come in today?" Blaise asked, once again having that unnerving sensation of the whole shop listening to his words with gossip-whorish rapture. The manager, a man in his early twenties, still had enough sense to look scared enough when he answered him.

"No, my Lord Zabini," the manager said in reverent and terrified tones. Without bothering to give the manager at the very least a nod, Blaise turned around. He paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder to deliver a withering gaze to the still waiting students. He briefly considered threatening them, or casting a mass _Obliviate_, or even enlisting them for help searching for Ginevra.

But he eliminated each one of those options, and opted instead to disdainfully pick out the gaze of the major known gossip-whores, threatening with his eyes instead of words, before sweeping out of the shop with enough flair that it would have done Snape proud.

Outside of the shop, Blaise squinted up into the sun. Where could he try next? The Three Broomsticks? Madam Puddifoot's? The Post Office? He was just about to decide on The Three Broomsticks (followed by the Hog's Head, and then the Post Office, followed by Gladrags, and _then _Madam Puddifoot's) when he heard someone shouting his name. Turning, he saw that half-blood, Thomas, running up to him, on his heels that other seventh year Slytherin, Finnegan. Both were out of breath when the stopped before him, panting, and oddly leaning up against each other for support.

"Thank the gods—" Thomas began.

"—that we caught you," Finnegan ended, both breathing hard. Blaise quirked an eyebrow, momentarily amused by the image that they presented. They were hanging off each other with such a familiarity that if they weren't in the middle of Hogsmeade, he would have assumed that they had just finished up with a quick shag.

Blaise concluded that this assessment wasn't that far off, considering that when he had last confronted Thomas, he had admitted to having a boyfriend—Finnegan must be the unlucky one, then.

"Why would that be?" asked Blaise, feeling suddenly a lot less harried. When compared with these two, he probably looked downright relaxed.

"We found Potter over in the Hog's Head," Thomas began, pausing to take a breath, "and he's talking to Ron and Hermione about Ginny." Blaise found it a little odd to note that they called him Potter yet continued to call his lackeys by their given names and not their surnames.

"We heard that you had lost her from Terry Boot," Finnegan added. Blaise felt himself beginning to fill with the now-familiar panic, but couldn't resist one last comment.

"Is Boot gay as well?" To Finnegan's flabbergasted expression, Blaise winked at an only partial-shocked Thomas, before turning around and beginning to sprint towards the Hog's Head. Who knew what they had already done to her…

He still had enough sense to know that bursting into the Hog's Head wouldn't only get around to everyone at Hogwarts, but most likely every other social group. He couldn't have that. So, discreetly, he slowed to a walk a few paces outside of the door, took a moment or two to settle his breathing, and then entered the pub at a stately pace.

His survey of the room revealed a few of the normal shady-shady looking people that often frequented the Hog's Head, and then, in the corner and away from everyone and looking sufficiently evil, yet not quite making it since they were wearing muggle teenager clothes, was the Trio. Blaise wasted no time in going over to them, their mumbling conversation stopping when he was close enough to hear it. Three pairs of hostile eyes glared at him.

"What do you want, Zabini?" Weasley growled at him, fists tight around the table. Blaise grinned lazily.

"What, no 'how are you' or 'good day'?" he teased darkly.

"There is no such thing as a 'good day' when pollution like you can walk into perfectly respectable bars and interrupt on perfectly respectable customers' conversations!" the mudblood snapped violently. Blaise chortled, resisting the urge to whip out his wand and start cursing.

"I can find quite a few things wrong with that sentence," he commented mildly.

"Go the fuck away, Zabini," Potter sneered finally. Zabini shrugged elegantly.

"Why? I happen to have news on the whereabouts of your precious golden girl, Potter." He said it callously, but he was hoping that something would reveal whether or not they had her or knew where she was. Potter's face contorted into a menacing visage.

"She's not golden any more if she wants to fuck you guys all the time," he hissed, leaning forward to deliver his harsh words. "And I know exactly where she's at," Potter continued, causing Blaise's heart to twist into indiscernible shapes. "Exactly where _your _boyfriend is at. They're probably fucking as we speak." As much as Blaise wished it was so, he knew that she wasn't. And that also meant that Potter didn't know where she was, either.

"Good point. I'd better go join them, then," he said flippantly, waving over his shoulder as he walked out the door. He heard swearing behind him, but didn't bother to turn around. They wouldn't dare try to attack them in public—they didn't know just how many people would be willing to jump in and save the life of Lord Zabini if he was attacked at all, if only for the monetary rewards. Outside the door, he ran into Thomas, minus his boyfriend.

"I thought you'd come here," Thomas said, stepping beside him. "Seamus is off searching Puddifoot's—you don't know what I had to promise to do to him to make him agree to do that," he said, grimacing. Blaise spared him a brief glance, before heading back towards the next closest building that was on his list.

"How about I check The Three Broomsticks, and you get Gladrags," Thomas planned out, already starting to break off and head towards the other pub. Blaise nodded stiffly.

"Oh! And when you need to find Malfoy again, use this spell: _Perditio_. It'll guide him to you; it's the same spell I used to bring you guys," he added quickly.

"Thanks, Thomas," Blaise had to grudgingly admit. If they boy kept on being so damned helpful, he might actually start—_shudder_—liking him. Blaise half hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

They parted ways, Blaise heading off for Gladrags.

With a sudden, shuddering revelation, Blaise remembered that the Gladrags also had a London location, and a Paris location, and they were all connected via Floo. And didn't he remember something about Theodore promising to buy Ginevra a new wardrobe…?

He pulled out his wand, murmuring, "_Perditio,_" and a tiny bright light white sped off the tip and in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. How could he have been so dense? _Fuck it, I feel like a goddamned Hufflepuff_, he berated himself as he tore down the street, again. Why didn't he think of it sooner? _Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

Entering the shop, the pretty sales attendant looked up, smiled warmly, before it disappeared off her face just as quickly when she realized that he wasn't interest in shopping. Or her, really.

"Did a redhead come in here?" he fired off quickly. She nodded hesitantly. "Who was she with?"

"A blonde man and a black haired woman," she replied hastily. When it seemed as if she wasn't going to offer up any more information, Blaise growled angrily.

"Where did they go? Are they still in here, or did they leave?" he fired off in quick succession.

"I—I'm not at liberty to release the whereabouts of a customer," she recited, even as her blue eyes widened in fear. Blaise felt like cursing it out of her, but he knew that all the big stores like these had security orbs floating around somewhere, so it wouldn't be the smartest thing in the world to do.

It was awfully, _awfully _tempting, though.

"That red-haired woman is the love of my life," he said, fabricating the lie as quickly as he spoke it. "I was going to propose to her today, but our friends kidnapped her. I'm frantic to find her—we're going to miss our reservations, otherwise." It was a quick ad-lib, really, and not one of his best. But, as he had accurately assumed, this woman, like most women out there, were romantics at heart, and her fear melted away instantly to be replaced by a gooey expression. Blaise tried not to gag.

"_Oh_. Well, that changes up the situation a bit," she said a bit dazedly. Blaise hid his urge to cause some painfully violent carnage to that face of hers; it was just too _sickening_.

"Yes. So, will you tell me where they are?"

"Of course. They're in our London branch," she answered cheerily. Blaise felt a grim satisfaction in knowing that his hunch, even if it had come a bit late, had been right.

"I'd like to go to your London branch, then. Oh, and by the way; a blonde man is going to come in here, acting much like me. White blonde hair, pale skin, pale everything. You'll know him. Tell him where I've gone, and tell him to meet us there, too." Blaise didn't bother to explain to the annoying woman what kind of relation the blonde man was to him; rather, he just strode quickly to the back of the room, where he knew the Floos to the other branches were located.

Glancing at the boldly written letters over a wall of Floos, Blaise accurately deduced that the Floo marked "LONDON" would go to the London branch. He stepped into the emerald flames, feeling the familiar sensation of going through the many fireplaces before landing with ease on the marbled floor.

"My Lord Zabini!" a saleswoman gasped, rushing forward to meet him. "It's an honor—"

"Where's Ginevra Weasley?" he demanded sharply. She paused, stuttering, only serving to piss him off more.

"She's this way, my Lord," another voice called, this time unwavering and calm. A pretty blonde that Blaise vaguely recognized motioned him towards her, and he abandoned the useless saleswoman in favor of this more competent one.

"She's a little…unprepared for your visit, my Lord," the blonde woman continued hesitantly. Blaise shot her a look.

"I don't care."

He was fidgeting. It was killing him to be so close, but forced to walk in a calm, sedate pace to reach her. He knew that she wasn't in any serious danger—after all, he had found the Trio unscathed and they hadn't even seen her—but he couldn't help but have a completely illogical and frantic urge to see her, to confirm that she was safe.

Finally, when the warehouse of a store adopted more of a uniform theme, this time lingerie, Blaise realized where they were heading. The dressing room on this side of the store. Still, he didn't care, and now that he knew his destination…

He left the blonde woman there, all thoughts focused on getting to Ginevra as quickly as possible. He bypassed a few attendants, dove into the room, searching for the vibrantly telltale red that would reveal her location. He heard a muffled voice singing a song—_hers_—and strode forward, reaching the door quickly and yanking it open. Her singing stopped, and she turned, half naked to meet the intruder.

Blaise's heart was pounding, pounding, pounding, and at the sight of her, it seemed to double. _Safe_. She was safe.

It was only logical to close the scant few inches between them and press his lips to hers.

* * *

A/N: Wow! Early chapter! Long chapter! It's the end of the world! Much thanks to **mell8 **for the beta.

So, did anyone see that whole Theo thing coming? I didn't. :P It wasn't planned. It happened, though, and I kind of like it (in a sad way).

Q: Can you at least give us a hint how many more chaps there are going to be? (courtesy of **nads158**)

A: Honestly: no idea. I'm writing it as I go, and whenever I do a chapter outline it ends up getting split in two, anyway. More than five. Probably more than ten. Maybe around twenty? I don't know. It's impossible to tell. I have a vague outline planned, but stuff happens (as you can see above!) that will definitely expand the plot. Sorry.

Update on the red dreams bit: it looks like I might actually do it. I did a massive outline last night while babysitting, so, depending on if I get around to writing it or not, be on the look out!

Review responses, if you haven't gotten one yet, will be sent out shortly

Tell me what you guys think! Love it, hate it? Review and tell!

Roma

p.s. Melissa (Hyrda27), I just started writing your review reply and got all the way through the actual review-reply and halfway through the PM reply when I accidentally did something that made the page go to a different page. So when I went back to it, it was GONE. Which means that I won't be sending out a reply NOW, but maybe a little bit later when I've gotten over the loss of so much wonderful replyness. :(


	20. Chapter Twenty

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Twenty

It was the sound of the door opening behind me that had me freezing, half reaching for the wand tucked in my pants and half turning to see who it was. A flash of black hair and ivory skin was all the warning I had before warm lips were crashing into mine. I was still, trying to figure out what was going on, before it suddenly _clicked _in my mind whose face I was looking at. I instantly lost all reason.

Two weeks worth of dirty dreams flooded through my mind as I responded with an intensity that surprised both of us.

My hands abandoned their various tasks and crushed him to me, one hand wrapped in his hair and the other on his back. I remembered distantly that I had been in the middle of changing bras when he had interrupted, but could hardly bring myself to care. It didn't really matter that the only thing protecting my modesty was the scrap of fabric held up by the pressure of our bodies.

It was frantic and hurried and messy, but it was probably the single most fantastic kiss I had ever received. I winced when our teeth met with an audible click, but he soothed it away with quick strokes of his tongue. I drew his lower lip into my mouth, sucking on it swiftly before nibbling on it with my teeth, licking it delicately. I caught his moan in my mouth when I released his lip and he did the same thing to me. I couldn't stop the moan that slipped out of my mouth at the sensation of his teeth swiping my lip, and I shuddered deliciously, sinking into his embrace.

He was holding me up now, one hand around my waist and the other angling my head into the perfect position for him to plunder the warmth of my mouth. He spun me around clumsily, backing us up in an attempt to find something solid to support my weight so he could focus more on other, more _satisfying _things. His hand around my waist drifted a bit lower so he was holding me up with a hand on the left side of my ass, and I broke away from his lips, giggling manically at the absurdity of it.

His lips swooped back down to my face, kissing a trail down my jaw and to my neck, where he nearly instantly found a spot on my neck that had the giggles disappearing to be replaced by breathy moans. My knees collapsed a bit more and he stumbled forward, still in search of the elusive wall. The breath whooshed out of me when we hit something solid, but it was the second pair of arms that wrapped themselves around me that told me that it wasn't the wall we had hit.

I pried my eyes open, forcing myself to sort through the muddled bits of my thoughts, but all my efforts were in vain when Blaise sucked particularly hard on my neck and I dropped my head back into the other person's waiting palm. I caught a flash of silvery hair—_Draco_—and then his lips were on mine.

This kiss was slow and unhurried, almost as if he had all the time in the world. But it was in the occasional quick nip to my tongue and the way he held my head so fiercely that I knew he had been just as concerned as Blaise was. He was just better at hiding it behind a cool, emotionless façade.

_Well, not _completely _emotionless_, I corrected myself idly as his tongue curled around mine.

Someone's hands—I was guessing Draco's—pushed my bra back into place and cupped my breasts, squeezing gently. A sigh slipped into his mouth from mine, and one of my hands was inching back to grab Draco's head when I heard someone clear their throat.

My reaction, at least, was instantaneous, and I twisted my head away from Draco's and looked towards the source of the noise, blushing furiously. Blaise and Draco, on the other hand, were a little more reluctant to stop doing the wondrous things that they were doing, and slowly dragged themselves away from my skin as if I was a particularly addictive drug.

"_Pansy_," I whispered, horrified. I tried to squirm out of their grasp, but Draco tightened his hands on my breasts, making another flood of red sweep down my body as he indicated that the only reason I was still partially clothed was his tight grip on bra, and in turn, my breasts. It didn't matter if it felt good or not; the sudden realization of what I almost did in the dressing room of _Gladrags _hit me like a train, and I put my hands over Draco's and craftily maneuvered it so his were no longer on them.

I shot a pointed glare at the offending limbs, before another pointed glare to Blaise's lips. It was _their _fault that this whole mess had started, anyway; if he hadn't so…_engaging _in his methods of making sure I was fine…but gods, were _they _fine…

I realized that the only thing I was doing was staring at his lips with barely-concealed hunger and closed my eyes, breathing deeply in an attempt to clear my head. It didn't work; they were standing too close, so instead of getting a clear head, their cologne clogged my senses with pure rapture.

"Out," I snapped, edging myself to the side and away from them. They looked slightly insulted at my abrupt order, but I didn't care. I could feel the heat radiating off my skin from the blush, and I held one hand to my heaving chest—oh _gods_, what had I _done_?—and pointed with the other to the door behind a smirking Pansy. "_Out_," I ordered more insistently.

They exchanged glances that I couldn't decipher, before both swooped in and pecked me on the cheek. I felt my blush kick itself into high gear, especially when I saw the suspicious face of Theo peek in the room and scowl.

"Don't be long," they whispered sinfully, before strolling out of the room without a care in the world. They did pause in their walk momentarily to send a quelling glare to Pansy, before continuing outside the room. When the door closed behind them, I stumbled backwards until I hit a wall and sank to the floor.

I had just done the one thing I had been trying not to do for the past two weeks, and I couldn't help but find a sense of satisfaction in it. Circe help me. If I hadn't been a traitor to my family and house before, those two snogs had definitely sealed my fate.

I was going to Hell in a plush, well-furnished hand basket, and I couldn't bring myself to care.

* * *

Theodore Nott was pissed. Oh, sure, he was completely ecstatic about what had happened between Pansy and him earlier. But that was beside the point. They had hunted down Ginny after a frantic store clerk had finally managed to reach them when they had emerged from their dressing room—Theo couldn't help but smile darkly at the brief turn his memories had taken—and informed them that a certain Malfoy and Zabini had torn through their store one after the other and interrupted the Lady Weasley while she was in the middle of changing.

Theo had opted to remain outside of the dressing room when they got there, and sent Pansy in instead. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he was completely terrified of having Draco and Blaise target their stressed out anger on him because he and Pansy had "kidnapped" Ginny without letting them know. But now, they had the nerve to pull something like _that _on Ginny?

He was waiting there, arms crossed and glaring, while they walked out, smug smiles on their face. Theodore had the grace to wait for the door to close before casting the _Silencio_ and begin his berating.

"Kindly tell me just what the _fuck _you two were thinking in there," Theo said sweetly, menace laced underneath every word. Both Draco and Blaise returned his sweet words with a saccharine smile of their own, before Draco replied.

"How about we begin with what the _fuck _you and Pansy were thinking when you abducted Ginevra without telling us," he said smoothly, his own voice deceptively sugary. Theo would have been concerned—after all, in any other circumstances he would have been deathly afraid of facing their wrath—but he no longer was worried about the ramifications of his and Pansy's earlier actions.

"Forget that," he snapped angrily. "Think about _Ginny_." Blaise snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, and what have we been thinking about since we woke up this morning? The upcoming Transfiguration test?" Blaise demanded sarcastically. Theodore took a step closer, nearly vibrating with anger. Were they really this _dense_?

"No, not that. Think about Ginny and the fact that she just got out of a two-year-long sham of a relationship in which she was raped and abused on _numerous _fucking occasions!" he hissed darkly, slashing his hand for emphasis. He hadn't even realized he had drawn his wand, so a flurry of green sparks rained angrily out of its tip.

As much as he knew he'd enjoy cursing them both until their insides were their outsides, he knew it wouldn't help the situation at all. He had a point to make, and he only fought when he wanted to avoid a subject.

Both Draco and Blaise stilled their movements and seemed to freeze. It was obvious by the way they mechanically raised their gazes to each other that they most certainly hadn't thought about that side of snogging Ginny.

"Scopata," they both murmured. Theo nodded grimly. ((Fuck))

"_Now _you understand why I'm so bloody furious with you two. You didn't even begin to consider what she's going through!" They both had the decency to look guilty.

"Do you think she's…okay?" Blaise asked hesitantly. Theo shook his head and gave them a congratulatory grin.

"She's probably more in shock than anything," he said slyly. "If what I saw when I looked was anything to go by." With Theo smirking like that, Draco's stressed mind leapt to conclusions.

"You lecherous little jackass—" he started, before being intercepted by Blaise.

"Silenzio, amore, ha il Pansy," Blaise cooed to him, easing Draco back down and out of his murderous rage. Theo narrowed his eyes at Blaise—he _couldn't _know anything about what had happened between him and Pansy, could he?—before returning to the more pressing subject at hand. ((Hush, love, he's got Pansy.))

"I'm as interested in Ginny as a brother would be," he said flatly. "And as her self-appointed Slytherin brother, since her other brothers are kind of missing, it's up to me to make sure you two dumbasses don't fuck things up any more."

"We haven't fucked up anything yet!" Blaise protested.

"Or any_one_," Draco added in an undertone. Blaise smirked and Theo just scoffed.

"And you won't be fucking her at all if you keep up this attitude," he snapped back. "Honestly, do you have any consideration for what she's going through?" The words had barely slipped out of his mouth before he was confronted with two wands pointed dangerously close to his throat.

"Take it back," Draco dragged out slowly. Theo weighed the pros and cons, and decided that apologizing just this once would be worth it while they were in this mood.

"Fine, I'll admit you've got some tact. At least when you're _thinking_!" he exclaimed, glaring at Blaise.

"_Were _you even thinking when you decided to pull that?" he demanded. Blaise shook his head reluctantly and looked down at his shoes. "_Exactly_," Theo said triumphantly.

"You two need to think more with the heads on your shoulders and _not _your other heads," Theo said with a waggle of his eyebrows, even if his words were serious. "She isn't used to this at all. Think about it; Potter is the only serious 'boyfriend' she's had, and he isn't exactly ideal boyfriend material." Draco and Blaise looked close to murderous, so Theodore decided that the subject of Potter shouldn't be broached unless absolutely necessary.

"Plus, there's the whole fact that she's been raised in a Light pureblooded family. She may be Dark now, but she's probably confused about being attracted to two boys at once. For a Gryffindor who's probably never even heard of a ménage à trois, this is probably a bit too sudden for her tastes. You're coming on too strong, and not even bothering to ask if she's okay with it," Theodore finished up, hoping that they'd take his advice and back off—or at least talk to her about it before they did something else.

"We understand," Blaise said softly, glancing at Draco for confirmation.

"Yes. We'll talk to Ginevra before we do anything else," Draco added. The only thing that belied his innocent words was the dark promise in his eyes. Theo shook his head, but decided that that was as much as he was going to get out of them.

Now, all they had to do was wait for Ginny and find out if she had decided to murder or shag them. Theo was partially hoping for the first one, if only because it would be something funny to watch, but knew that with Pansy's help, she was probably going to settle for the second one.

He sighed. If this was what it felt like to have a sister, he had new sympathy for the other Weasley men.

* * *

"Merlin's balls," I murmured to myself, starring at the floor. Now that they weren't in sight I was able to concentrate on much more important things. At least, that was the intention, but I couldn't really focus on much of anything besides shock.

"Actually," Pansy drawled as she stalked forward like a jungle cat stalking its prey, "I think it would be more like 'Draco and Blaise's balls'. " I shot her a withering glare, before sighing, raising my hands to rub my eyes wearily. Discreetly, one hand trailed down to my lips that were tingling as if they had been shocked. Pansy snorted.

"As much as I think you have lovely breasts, Weasley, I'm not too keen on having a conversation solely with them," Pansy said, tossing me a shirt she had picked up on the way to me. I gave her another dirty look, pulling the bra back up and putting it on properly.

"You're not really helping," I pointed out, trying to figure out which was up on the shirt and happy for the distraction.

"I am too!" she protested. "I gave you a shirt. You should keep that one, by the way," she added, indicating the navy bra I was wearing as she sat down next to me. "Brings out the veins on your skin." I wasn't sure if I should be happy that the bra did that or not, and decided instead to pull the shirt on. I sighed.

"Oh gods, Pansy, what have I done?" I moaned into my hands. Even without looking, a sound of derision slipped through her lips and I knew she was rolling her eyes at my melodrama.

"Technically, it was Blaise that did something first. Wasn't it?" I didn't bother questioning how she knew that he had been the one to initiate the snog. I nodded miserably.

"Yes, but I snogged him _back_," I pointed out, as if in doing so I had signed my life away. It wasn't that far away from the truth, actually…

"So? You weren't exactly protesting at the time," she pointed out. I gave her a jab with my elbow.

"Be serious, Pansy," I scolded. "'It seemed like a good idea at the time' isn't exactly a good motto to live by." She shrugged.

"You liked it, didn't you?" she asked me. Again, I raised my fingers to my lips and touched them gingerly.

They were still tingling.

"Of course," I replied slowly. "It was even better with Draco there." I thought about what I had just said and moaned, burying my head in my hands.

"This is exactly what I mean!" I mumbled. Pansy tapped me on the head.

"I can't hear you when you talk to your boobs like that," she said. I sat up and gave her a dirty look, quickly followed by a pleading look.

"Pansy, it's _wrong _to like two boys at once, isn't it? Especially if those two boys like each other, and me, too! That's just…morally corrupt or something!" She scoffed.

" 'Morally corrupt'? Where do you come up with that bullshit?" she asked. I blushed lightly.

"My mum," I replied glumly.

"Since when have you listened to your mum?" she demanded. "You're not exactly on the straight and narrow as it is, are you?" I shook my head slowly.

"But…Pansy! It's wrong!" I repeated, an agonized look crossing my face. She shook her head.

"Quit being so goddamned closed-minded. You're hanging out with Slytherins, for fuck's sake," she said harshly, and I recoiled a bit from her words. She continued on, ignoring me. "Being in a relationship with two men is perfectly fine. Both Draco and Blaise are hedonists, and I bet you're not too far off. If it feels good—and you yourself said that it _did_—you shouldn't have a problem with doing what you want."

"But—" I protested weakly.

"No buts," Pansy replied firmly. "Buts are always full of shit." I snorted in laughter, instantly bolstered back into good spirits.

"Okay, Pansy," I admitted with a grin. "If you think that it's best that I stay away from buts, I think I can indulge a bit in my more hedonistic side." She nodded.

"Good. Any more concerns I should know about?" I hesitated. I had decided that the moral issues could be ignored completely—after all, who was I to preach morality?—but there was something else.

"I…" I trailed off, trying to figure out how to put it into words. "I don't think I can do it." She waited patiently while I dropped my head to her shoulder, speaking more quietly.

"What if I don't know how to do it properly? I mean, snogging's one thing, but shagging? Potter's my only experience, and, well, you know how that went," I said in a rush, fingering my shirt nervously. "I could be broken or something, and they'd just hate me for wasting their time—" Pansy stopped me with a hand over my mouth, turning my head so she could look me in the eyes.

"Just because Potter can only shag someone when they're unwilling and unable to fight back doesn't mean that that's the only way you can do it," she said slowly, as if trying to get me to understand. "And you can't be 'broken'. That's ludicrous. When you snogged them you felt something, didn't you?" she asked sharply and I nodded.

"Something here, right?" she questioned further, jabbing a finger down near my womanly parts. I squeaked and twisted away from her, glaring.

"_Hey!_" I protested angrily. She shrugged, not looking the least bit regretful.

"Did you, or didn't you?" she asked again. I blushed, looking to the floor and nodding reluctantly.

"Then you're not broken," she continued on ruthlessly. "If you got turned on by them, that means you're perfectly able to do whatever it is you three want to do." Mentally, I began to go through the various dreams I had recently had, a small grin alighting on my face. Pansy's sound of disgust broke me free of my musings.

"Quit looking so _satisfied _with yourself," she ordered with a tiny shudder. "I don't want to talk about three of my best friends _doing _it with each other." I stared at her, a little awed. She considered me as one of her best friends? I was beyond touched. Impulsively, I dove forward and grabbed her in a tight embrace.

"Thank you, Pans," I murmured in her ear. She patted my back awkwardly and laughed uneasily.

"Save it for your future boyfriends," she commanded, and I drew back sheepishly, scratching my head.

"Sorry," I apologized. She shrugged it off, standing up and pulling me up beside her.

"Come on," she called over her shoulder as she walked towards the door. "Let's go inform our lovers of our intentions." My eyes widened at her smirk.

"You mean…you and Theo are official?" She waited with hand on the door while she thought about the question.

"I wouldn't say official. More like sorting things out, with a bit of shagging thrown in," she said with a grin. I rolled my eyes.

"You're incorrigible," I informed her as we walked out of the room.

My eyes were immediately drawn to Draco and Blaise, who seemed to be immersed in a deep conversation. They broke it off when they saw me looking, and a look of abject sorrow seemed to cross both of their faces as they stepped closer.

"Ginevra…" Draco said, trailing off.

"We're so terribly sorry, Ginevra," Blaise murmured, looking at me soulfully. My heart melted. Even if I had been furious with them, or outraged, or even just the tiniest bit reluctant to do anything, that one look would have made me instantly comply with whatever he was apologizing for.

Wait. _Apologizing? _Since when did they apologize?

"What?" I asked, blinking owlishly. Blaise's hand moved forward, as if he was going to grab mine in his, before he seemed to think better of it.

"We didn't think," Draco added softly. Confused, I glanced at him. What was he talking about?

"Um…" I trailed off, still completely confused. What had I missed?

"We didn't mean to be so completely inconsiderate of your present emotional state," Blaise added, and I bristled with anger. 'Present emotional state'…? They were making me out like I was insane!

Besides, who were they to talk? 'Present emotional state,' my ass.

"_Excuse _me?" I said sharply, taking a step forward. "What do you mean, 'present emotional state'?" They exchanged glances.

"We only meant we were concerned with your mental well-being," Draco said, sounding awfully considerate for a man that was accusing me of being insane.

"So that's why we've decided to cancel any further advances on your virtue for the time being," Blaise finished up, leaving me gaping incredulously. For one, he sounded as if he walked straight out of a badly written romance novel. Seriously, where were they coming up with this shit?

_So _that's _what they were talking about when I came out of the changing room! _I deduced suddenly.

There was still the problem of both Draco and Blaise seeming to want to swear off Ginny Weasley, however temporary it might be. _And _very _temporary it _will _be, _I thought viciously to myself. I closed the few feet in between us and raised up both hands simultaneously, giving them sound slaps on their cheeks.

They froze, stunned, as I winced and rubbed my palms. _Ouch_. I slapped harder than I remembered. I looked back up at their cheeks, and blushed lightly. Whoops. Draco ended up with the redder cheek; I _was _right handed, after all, so my left just didn't give the same amount of oomph that my right did. I pushed all thoughts away from my mind, though, and placed a stern look on my face.

"That is complete and utter bullshit," I said, enunciating each syllable clearly so they wouldn't miss it. "Just when I decided to throw all moral concerns and past relationship issues into the wind, you two decide to go and muck up my decision like this." I was ranting; I didn't care.

"I just went through a whole shit load of emotional upheaval, and all for what? For you to say that you don't _want _to shag? Yeah, well, you know what I say to that? Fuck you! Fuck you _both_. That's what I plan on doing, and if you think—" I was abruptly silenced by Draco closing the distance between us and kissing me soundly. I lost my train of thought as he effectively distracted me. When I got my thoughts to focus on something other than his lips, I pushed him away, glaring.

"_I wasn't finished_," I declared darkly. Draco grinned wickedly.

"In my opinion, I think you _were_," he pointed out. I pouted. I _had _lost my train of thought; I had been yelling at them about something, but I wasn't quite sure what it was.

I was also pretty positive that my new forgetfulness had something to do with the way Blaise's hand was slowly tracing delicious designs on my left breast and couldn't suppress a shudder.

"How about we take this discussion somewhere more private?" Blaise suggested, the heated look in his cerulean eyes making me tingle. I glanced back at Draco, but he was busy examining my lips—which were tingling again, I might add…

"Just as long as 'somewhere more private' includes a flat surface and pillows," I negotiated. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Those are generally referred to as a bed," he told me and now it was my turn to roll my eyes. I glanced over at Theo and Pansy, but they had found something more interesting to do that watch us bicker. I mentally shrugged; well, if they weren't going to stop me…I turned back to Draco and Blaise, looping my arms through theirs and beginning to march out.

I had heard Hell was looking pretty nice this time of year, anyway.

* * *

A/N: **ADDED: Please everyone that read and was intending on reviewing, review now. The site was down for the better part of today, which meant that all those possibly-lovely reviews never were sent. You can still add to the count, and get to 500! I have taken the chapter down and REPOSTED it, so the alert is sent again. Hopefully, that works, but no guarantees. --5:07 PM, August 26, '08.  
**

I'm so sorry for updating so late. I guess it just evens out, since nineteen was out so early. :P I'm also sorry for everyone that has PMed me, ever, and I didn't reply. I just cleaned out my inbox and found loads of things that I slacked off on.

This is going to a long A/N, btw. Freetranslation was used for the Italian. Thank you Melissa for the beta!

Q: Any idea when the big fight will be between the G-Trio and the S-Trio? --Courtesy of bluemoon, the anonymous reviewer.

A: Honestly? No idea. It's tentatively scheduled for around Christmas, (this is set right about in the middle of November, now, assuming that it started a few days into November), but then again, that outline I did is seriously outdated since I've added so much stuff now. I'll do a new one when I have time, and get you a better answer.

I have a new poll up, and I also have a new story up, _Thunder and Lullabies. _It's DG and really cute and fluffy, and I consider it to be one of my best pieces. Better than Mesmerize, but that's because I'm secretly a fluff bunny. The new chapter of _The Phoenix Key _is up, too.

Another COOL thing you reviewers should know about: there's now a prize for the 500th reviewer! More details in my profile, but essentially whoever is the 500th reviewer gets to have a oneshot of their choice, with ANY pairing, genre, etc., written by me! I will most certainly make it my priority to write it, instead of putting it at the end of my to-do list, so you would get it ASAP, too. But, everyone has to review to get there. So, REVIEW. (It shouldn't be a problem; just drop a line, guys. I know there's over TWO HUNDRED of you buggers that have this story alerted, so show a little compassion!)

The "big" scene is coming up next chapter. Possibly... ;)

Roma

P.S. Mia, (anonymous reviewer), my email bounced back for the alert I was trying to send you. The one you gave didn't work. Sorry!


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Chapter Twenty One

_We're almost at the castle_, I noted with not a small amount of trepidation. I hadn't immediately been whisked away to their secret love chamber; in fact, rather anticlimactically, we had first needed to sort out all the clothes I was buying, since Pansy and Theo had mysteriously disappeared and left us to tell the saleswomen how things would be divided. Half had gone to the Nott account, while the other half had gone to the Parkinson account.

Blaise had murmured into my hair something like, "Serves them right…" when Draco told the woman whose accounts the clothes would be paid with. The woman didn't even comment on this, which alarmed me at first. If Draco and Blaise could charge things to Pansy and Theodore's accounts without them being present, who was to say that someone else wouldn't do that?

That thought distracted me much for the walk out of Hogsmeade and back to Hogwarts. My first conclusion was that they had known that Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Theodore were all friends, so maybe the accounts were interchangeable, too. But that still rang false with me; couldn't someone just Polyjuice themselves into one of them and go and charge everything to their account? But I realized that must have been wrong, too; after all, there weren't hundreds of Draco Malfoys running around or anything. I shuddered at the thought of there being more than one Draco out of habit, and felt Blaise chuckle beside me.

"What's got your face scrunched up like that?" he whispered into my ear, and I flushed.

"I'm _thinking_, you twat," I snapped back, hitting him lightly.

"Isn't that a bit hard for you?" Draco drawled from my other side. They both had an arm wrapped around my waist, but Blaise was pressed considerably closer to me than Draco was. I ignored the tiny part of me that was hurt from this revelation.

"Not as hard as it is for you," I whipped out, and Blaise chuckled again.

"What's got you all wound up?" he questioned. It wasn't as if I was actually upset about the Gladrags thing or anything; it was just annoying me that I couldn't figure out how the store could allow them to do that.

"Well, back at Gladrags I was wondering how they could let you two charge the clothes to Pansy and Theo's accounts. I mean, wouldn't that be in violation of some kind of security measure? They'd have loads of people just waltzing in and charging things to other people's accounts. And I considered the fact that they've probably seen the four of you together, but wouldn't Polyjuice solve that problem? Someone could just slip some hair or something into a Polyjuice, toss it back, and then waltz in and declare themselves the heir to the Malfoy fortune and buy whatever they want. And then—" Blaise's chuckling broke me off mid-explanation, and I sank into a sullen silence.

"Love, you're over thinking things," he told me, with a gentle tug on my hair. "See this lovely piece of rock?" he asked, showing me his left hand. On his pinky finger was a seemingly simple ring that I initially took for being something that had been gifted to him. I took his hand, and on closer inspection discovered that a tiny little coat of arms was carved onto the surface of the black stone, and on the four cardinal points of the coat of arms there were two tiny green stones, and two clear stones.

I figured that since it was his signet ring, the two green stones would be emeralds, while the two clear stones were most likely diamonds.

"Oh," I muttered, dropping his hand dejectedly. The truth of the matter was much less magnificent than I had hoped; it would have been more fun if Gladrags had some kind of high-tech identity checking spell or something.

"Cheer up. We're almost there," Draco said, nudging me in the side with his elbow. I looked up and realized that we were about to walk up the steps and into Hogwarts. Instead of being happier at this prospect, what my musings had blocked out during the walk all rushed back with a vengeance. Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be pulled forward, my mind racing around in circles.

Truth was, it was easy to get caught up in the moment like I had at Gladrags. So soon after tasting them, I was ready to go to the ends of the earth just to do it again. But now, after their drugging lips had left mine, I wasn't sure if I was ready for this. I stayed quiet as we walked through the halls, a tight knot of uneasiness growing larger as we got closer and closer to Draco's Head Boy room. Their arms that had seemed so comforting on the way here, grounding me to earth, now seemed to tighten and cage me, reminding me with a sickening lurch of the way Harry used to hold me.

I knew it was irrational to think that. For one, they were only barely holding on to me; I could have slipped out of their grips any second. But it did nothing to ease the panic that was creeping up on me steadily as I stood before the portrait, waiting for it to swing open and admit us into Draco's room.

It swung open ominously, and I didn't bother to wait and see if they were talking to me.

"Bathroom!" I cried a bit hysterically, shooting out of their arms and trying to make it seem as if I wasn't sprinting for the security of the marbled room. "Be out in a moment!"

I slammed the door shut. For extra security, I cast _Colloportus_, my wand shaking in my grip. I looked down at the short piece of hazel wood and it fell from my numbed fingers, dropping to the floor with a sharp noise.

I stared at my hand in shock for a few moments, trying to comprehend that the shakiness was actually coming from me. I glanced at the mirror on my right, nearly dropping to the ground at the pale face that greeted me before I realized that it was my own face.

_Stop it, Ginny, _I chided myself angrily, taking a step closer to the mirror so I could see myself more clearly. _There's no reason to be so jumpy_. But there _was_. My mind was leaping to thoughts all over the place, steadily avoiding confronting the one thing that needed to be confronted, the one thing that was causing me so much stress: the two boys that were waiting for me in the other room.

I shuddered delicately, pushing that from my mind and focusing on something else. That something else happened to be my reflection, and I couldn't help but see my lips twist into a haunted smirk. I was paler than usual and the green light made me seem as if I was going to puke. Internally inspecting the coiled knot in my stomach, I deduced that I wasn't that far off.

My classy and expensive clothes looked good on me—but they still looked like they didn't belong. Not on _me_, Ginny Weasley. I didn't deserve such rich clothes.

I tore the scarf from my neck, catching it on my hair and unexpectedly wringing tears from my eyes as I jerked it off, my fingers fumbling for the buttons on the jacket, shedding it just as easily and throwing it with as much violence as I could muster towards the tub. One of my boots was off and I was throwing my fingerless gloves away when I slowed my movements, staring at my pale face in the mirror.

I was breathing heavily after struggling with my clothes, and closed my eyes, taking a moment to calm down. This whole situation was wreaking havoc on my already confused mind. In the little over two weeks with Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Theodore, I had gained a tenuous grasp on my sanity again. Now, though, it had deteriorated in the blink of an eye, all at the impending threat of Draco and Blaise.

I sighed. I _knew _what was wrong with me. Potter still hung over my head like some kind of psychotic rain cloud. Yet knowing something and doing something about it were different things; I didn't know where to start. I opened my eyes again, scrutinizing the bedraggled figure in the mirror. First things first: was I really planning on engaging on sexual relations with two people at _once_?

Put like that, in the barest terms possible, I could just hear my mother's scandalized tones. The first battle that I was fighting was between my moral side and my hedonistic side. Should I do the good, honorable Gryffindor thing, and stay monogamous? Or do what _felt _good, meaning Draco and Blaise?

I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my eyes wearily. Talking with Pansy about abandoning sixteen years of morality was easier when not actually faced with the prospect of fully abandoning it. I wanted to do it, but I could still feel my guts twisting—past the giant knot of fear, that is—with the shame of it.

I scoffed at myself. Hell, I hadn't even _done _anything except snog them, and I was already acting like I had condemned myself to an eternity of suffering! I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of it. _Okay, realistically. Where did following the rules get you? _I questioned myself sensibly. When a brief flash of Potter's sneering face shot through my mind like a curse, I quickly pushed it aside. _So, that's where they got you. Come on, Ginny. Live a little! _

With my internal pep talk done, I decided to toss my mother's morality and monogamy and even my figurative maidenhood, in one sense. If I felt guilty about it afterward…well, then I'd just cross that bridge when I got there.

I finished taking off the glove and my boot, before looking at my pale green face again. If I was going to make it a habit of being in their bathroom, I was going to have to get them to change the color of the light. It did not flatter my skin tone in _any _way…

Frowning at myself, I tried to decide how I should go about doing this. I suddenly crouched on the floor, reaching for my wand. I stood back up, waving my wand in an all-too-familiar gesture. My face was instantly covered in the thick make-up that Harry had liked. Maybe that would make them happy, too, since Harry was very insistent that I use the make-up every time I went to see him.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I was ashamed at what I saw: a scared little girl trying to dress up and be a big girl. The clothes fit well enough, tailored to me by Pansy's wand work, but the overall image was one of an outsider trying to fit in. I looked away. I might not be able to fool myself, but perhaps it was enough to fool Draco and Blaise into wanting me as much as I wanted them.

I placed my wand by the sink. I wouldn't need it, would I? I took the remaining steps to the door, and stopped, breathing deeply, the knot of tension in my stomach churning tightly. _You can do this, _I soothed myself. _Just reach for the doorknob, twist it, open the door…_

Coaching myself thus, I was able to tentatively open the door and step out, my bowed head inspecting the carpet before me. I closed the door with a click, but didn't hear any other sounds.

"Ginevra, are you—" At the sound of my name, I looked up, and Blaise stopped talking with a strangled sound. He was sitting on the couch, and Draco was nowhere in sight. Blaise, however…

"What's wrong?" I asked, immediately on the defensive when I saw the way his hands were convulsively tightening around the armrest.

"It's just—" he attempted to begin, before trailing off to a stop. Alarmed, I was torn between returning to the bathroom and walking closer to find out what was going on.

And then, something suspiciously like a giggle slipped out his lips, followed by a brief silence. Confused, I knew I was frowning, but Blaise evidently couldn't help himself and started laughing.

I hadn't seen him laugh so carelessly before, so happily, but I still was wounded that he was laughing _at _me, instead of with me or at someone else. Peals of laughter were leaving his lips, as if he'd just seen the funniest thing in the world, while I stood there uncertainly. Making up my mind, I headed for the door.

"I'll just go," I said quickly, trying not to run. It was so _stupid _to think that they wanted me for who I was, and not just another piece of ass.

If I thought about it, I knew that was wrong. But all I could concentrate on was getting out of the room before Blaise stopped laughing and realized I was making a break for it; stopped laughing and tried to stop me and use _other _methods to make me stay—

The hand tightened around my wrist, stopping me in place.

"Don't go," he was saying, the laughter gone. I tugged on my wrist futilely, trying to escape his grip, but it was too tight and too constricting and I couldn't get free—

I spun around, swinging with my left hand, my weaker hand, but still strong enough to do damage if I tightened my hand into a fist with my thumb on the outside, just like Charlie had taught me to do. It was stopped inches away from colliding with his face, and now both of my hands were trapped in his.

I couldn't breathe. It was too close to being with Harry, too close and too soon and now he would hurt me, beat me, do everything that Harry had done but even worse, since he was Slytherin and he had saved me from Harry so he would want payment—

Suddenly, I was pressed into his chest, his fingers running soothing patterns through my hair while he held on to me tightly, preventing movement but not hurting me, either. It took me a few moments to realize that he wasn't planning on hurting me, and slowly, I released the tension in my limbs, sinking into his embrace limply. He was murmuring in Italian, the musical quality of the words sounding much like a delicate song. I knew they probably made no sense whatsoever, but they helped.

Slowly, gradually, I returned the embrace, clinging to him tightly as if he was the last thing that anchored me to sanity. That probably wasn't too far off from the truth, either.

The tears stopped digging gouges into the caked on make-up a few minutes later, and he pulled back to survey my face. I was snuffling, attempting to bring back all the snot that had leaked its way out of my nose and onto the rest of my face. I attempted to hide my face on his shirt, knowing that I probably looked like I had just dipped my face in five different kinds of liquid, but he held me back, an odd smile on his face as he surveyed my ruined appearance.

"Silly girl," he murmured just loud enough for me to hear. "This isn't necessary," he said, bringing a finger up to trace the make-up. When he brought it away, it was as if he had just dipped his finger in a vat of clay. Grimacing, he took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom, thankfully making no comment to the scattered clothing. Guiltily, I strategically stepped on one of the buttons off of the coat that I had accidentally torn. He didn't _really _need to see that.

That was a worthless gesture, though, since he picked me up underneath my armpits like a little kid and placed me on the counter, my feet dangling over the edge and not reaching the ground. I scowled at him as he serenely dipped a towel into the sink, wetting it, before turning back to me.

"Close your eyes," he said firmly. With a final tear-streaked scowl, I complied. "Now, we're going to have to talk about this whether you want to or not," he warned.

"Where's Draco?" I interrupted, deciding that I didn't really want to.

"Talking to Pansy and Theodore," he said just as quickly, before returning to the subject as if I hadn't even spoken. "We're willing to take this slow, Ginevra. _Really _slow. You have to understand that it's you that's going to be determining our pace. So if you're not ready, we won't pressure you into doing something you're uncomfortable with."

"But I _am _ready," I insisted, opening one eye as he rubbed at the other with the towel. "I've just got these stupid reasons my head keeps coming up with as to why I _shouldn't _do anything with you two." He chuckled.

"They're not stupid, love. They're probably all quite reasonable reasons, as reasons tend to be." I made a scoffing sound, since I couldn't very well roll my eyes. "But you have to understand that we know that you aren't going to be as willing to jump into bed with us as we would be in your situation."

"I do understand that, and it's _wrong_. I'm completely willing to do it—only when I'm not thinking about it," I explained, trying my best to ignore the swipes at my face the soft towel was making. It was quite distracting. "It's only when I stop and think about it that I actually come up with reasons as to why I shouldn't be doing it." He sighed dramatically.

"Thinking does tend to muck things up a bit, doesn't it?" he said rather tragically. The wet towel stopped its ministrations, and was quickly replaced by a dry towel that dabbed off all the wet remains. When he was done, he tugged me off the counter, my eyes automatically opening. Spinning me around, he wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on top of mine and watching our reflections watch us in the mirror.

My face was clean once again, if a bit pink looking. The hair around my face was wet, giving it an odd appearance, but I decided that frankly, I couldn't really look any worse than I had before, so anything was an improvement. Blaise looked perfect as usual, if you ignored the slightly pinker left check that was a direct result of my earlier slap. He really _was _tall.

"Listen, Ginevra. We're not trying to pressure you or anything. Potter deserves to die for what he did for you—honestly, that much make-up before a shag? Tsk, tsk." I elbowed him, my lips twitching into a smile at his humor.

"Thanks, Blaise," I murmured softly. He released me, reaching for my hand and pulling me towards the door again. I was beginning to feel like some kind of pet that he could drag wherever he wanted. He stopped me in the doorway, making me stumble into him. He leaned down dangerously close, making my heart beat in an entirely different way than it had earlier.

"No problem, la mia pulce piccolo," he murmured lightly, eyes dancing. I could only guess that whatever he had just called me was something degrading in a way, but at the same time staying just sweet enough for him. I frowned at him, and he tapped me on the tip of my nose, grinning as he pulled me forward again. ((my tiny flea))

When I saw he was heading for the bed, I was a bit more apprehensive than I had been before. Luckily, all he seemed to want to do was snuggle; like a large redheaded teddy bear, he practically threw me onto the bed before pouncing on me with barely a second in which we weren't touching. I was stiff for a few seconds, before relaxing gradually when all he did was rest his head on my stomach.

Unconsciously, I dropped a hand to his head, stroking the silky strands. _His hair is so long_, I mused, my thoughts refusing to reach for anything deeper than simple observations. I frowned at a lock of the inky blackness, mentally comparing it to the length of my hair. _Definitely longer_, I concluded unhappily. Beautiful as it was, it was just another bit of conservative wisdom my mother had imparted on me: the girl was supposed to have longer hair than the boy.

Pouting, I dropped it, refusing to look back at his hair. Blaise chucked, and I could feel the vibrations through my body. They touched things dangerously close to where his head was located, and I couldn't help but curl my fingers into the sheets, my voice hitching.

"Don't do that," I commanded, a little unnerved to discover that my voice had suddenly dropped a few octaves.

"Do what?" he practically purred. I sat up on my forearms in order to see his head over my moderately sized assets, and discovered him peering up at me with a dark look in his eye. He curled his arms around me, ticking my sides as they reached higher and higher. I giggled, causing his head to bounce up lightly as my stomach muscles flexed. At this ungainly move, I felt another wave of giggles sweeping over me, causing it to happen again and again. He scowled at me, drawing himself up my body.

"Not funny," he murmured, looking down at me. My giggling ceased, stopping in favor of looking into his eyes. Blue eyes. Cerulean eyes. They were lighter than people gave him credit for; Theo was the deranged, cheerful Slytherin, not Blaise. But they certainly were lighter, even if now they were darkening with something that I recognized easily. I stopped thinking of his eyes at all when his lips dropped to mine, effectively silencing my rampant thoughts.

Thinking was overrated, anyway.

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the lateness. Life caught up, and let me tell you, that was a bitch. Thankfully, though, I know where the next chapter is going (I originally had twenty one/two as one chapter), so it should be up sooner.

Sadly, I didn't have time to do review replies right now--I figured you guys would rather have this up first. I put off two essays to write this, so I'm behind, but I will get to the replies ASAP. Melissa, wonderful beta that she is, took a page from my book and did the same with her essay, deciding that betaing this was more important. Or procrastinating.

Everyone thank her! She has been invaluable to this story from about chapter fourteen and forward (I have no idea how I functioned before she deigned to be my beta) as well as any other writing I've thrown at her.

Ginny's hazel wand is taken from JKR saying that the wand woods correspond with the Celtic tree lore relating to their birth months. (www(dot)dutchie(dot)org/Tracy/tree(dot)html, if you're interested, and Ginny's birthday is August 11 (from HP Lexicon))

The 500th reviewer prize has been captured by Imperial Princess! Now, don't be upset; review, and tell me why you are upset, or rant about how you're more dedicated (which is probably true, since this is the first time she's read it, lolz) and deserve it more, or whatever. Besides, I'm (possibly) planning on doing another milestone review prize, depending on the success of this one. So, continue to review!

...besides, the fabled steamy scene will definitely happen next chapter, so tell me to hurry the hell up!

Roma


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